


And we are not alone

by Raven_Song



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Armitage Hux is So Done, BAMF Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Badass Phasma, Badass Rey, Ben Solo is Whipped, Ben is Hades, Chewie is Cerberus, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Finn is Apollo, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hadestown References, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Jannah is Artemis, Meet-Cute, POV Alternating, Persephone Goes Willingly With Hades (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Poe is Hermes, Rated M for future smut, Rey is Not a Palpatine, Rey is Persephone, Rose is a nymph, Sassy Poe Dameron, Slow Burn, Soft Ben Solo, Sweet, Sweet Hades (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), no force, they have mythologically relevant powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Song/pseuds/Raven_Song
Summary: “Oh, I’m ever so sorry—” Kore begins to apologize before she looks up into the face of the person who caught her. “Oh,” she whispers with wide eyes.It isn’t a satyr or dryad who held her in their arms. It was a man. Handsome, she notices absently, with lush black hair and dark eyes blown wide as if he’s just as surprised to find her in his arms as she is. A long, thin scar marrs his face, but it makes him no less beautiful. If anything, it makes him more so. They stand there, frozen. Neither able to break the embrace, both shocked by the circumstances they find themselves in.It’s the man who breaks his silence first.“Hello,” he breathes. “Are you alright?”Hades and Persephone inspired Reylo story. My first long form fic! Updates WednesdaysON HIATUS
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 129
Kudos: 259





	1. Good things come to those who wait

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the Greek gods family tree is a mess. There is _technically_ incest in this fic, but if that wigs you out I bring up the Percy Jackson argument that the gods don't have DNA therefore it can't be incest. If that still freaks you out, this fic probably won't be for you.
> 
> Title and chapter titles taken from Hadestown
> 
> Kore is one of Persephone's names. It means 'the maiden' which is important to the story I promise! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope you enjoy it. Comments and kudos are incredibly helpful

Deep below the earth in the heart of a black palace, the king of the Underworld sits on his chromium throne. A chalice of dark red wine sits by his right hand; his pale fingers twitch towards it as if to lift it to his lips. They stop just shy of the stem and fall away. He has more pressing matters.

Like the jittery daemon in front of him. 

The king looks down on the creature, upper lip curling with disgust. The daemon calls himself Hux. He’s a scrawny thing; all bony elbows and sharp cheekbones and hair the color of fire. His voice (high and shrill and over pretentious) drones on and echoes through the halls of the throne room until the king cannot help but to tune him out. 

Hades sighs and picks up his glass. It’s going to be another long day.

He peers into the dark liquid, where the warped shape of his own face stares back at him mournfully. He sees his proud face; not entirely handsome, but certainly not ugly either. A smattering of black moles form constellations over his brow, which seems trapped in a permanent furrow. His eyes are black as coal and smoulder when he becomes enraged. His hair is by far the feature he hates least about himself. It is lucious and black, falling in regal waves from underneath the heavy crown encircling his head.

Below his dais, the daemon is still droning on.

How is this what Hades’ life had become? He’s the eldest son of the king of the titans. By all rights, he should be ruling the heavens like Zeus (little usurper) or even the seas like Poseidon (pompous git). Instead, his kingdom is dark and morbid. The Underworld. He does his best to make it at least somewhat pleasant. At the very least he hopes it isn’t bleak. But when one is in charge of ruling the dead and the damned, there’s only so much landscaping and interior design can accomplish. The only thing the king takes any pride in lives in the center of his courtyard: a single, flourishing pomegranate tree. He thinks about how large his palace is: ostentatious and gothic, its spires visible from every corner of the Underworld. How empty it is. In that regard, it makes him rather like the tree in the middle of his courtyard, he supposes. Standing sentry over a desolate kingdom. Attendants and daemons like Hux are allowed entrance to his palace, but they live elsewhere. 

At night, the king is alone. Not for the first time, he wishes for a friend. A companion. Someone who could counsel him in the affairs of his kingdom and sup with him at his table. Someone who makes him happy. Makes him smile. He can’t remember the last time he smiled.

 _Maybe my brothers are right,_ he thinks glumly. _Maybe I do need a queen._

“Lord Hades,” Hux’s voice breaks through his melancholic thoughts. He straightens, hoping the daemon didn’t notice the lapse in his concentration.

“Yes, Hux. What is it?” he snaps. The daemon cringes. Hades grits his teeth, struggling to ignore the lurch his stomach gives at Hux’s reaction. It gives Hades no pleasure to elicit such a fearful response.

“Sir,” Hux tries again with a slight quaver in his voice. “Charon is demanding time off. He says ‘ferrying souls across the Styx is damn hard work and if I am not given a vacation I’ll dump the next batch of weeping shades into the river.’ Clearly, he is less than satisfied with his hours of employment—” Hades waves a hand to cut him off.

“Charon can get a month’s time off. He does his duty well, and I reward hard workers. Hermes will fill the role of psychopomp in the interim. It was his job first, anyway. Anything else?” 

Hux blinks. “Ah. Yes of course, your majesty. It er, oh dear. It appears the Erinyes are demanding better pay. Apparently, the portion of souls you give to them isn’t enough to satiate their hunger. They are the Furies. I suppose it makes sense that their appetites would be ext—”

“Alekto, Megaera, and Tisiphone will be granted fifty more souls each. I can spare no more than that. I have a kingdom to run, after all. What sort of king would I be if I allow the Erinyes to consume _all_ of my subjects?” Hux laughs. It’s loud; too loud. The daemon is entirely unsure how to gauge his king’s mood.

“Right. Good. That’s all the complaints for today then. The patrols of the edge of Tartarus are going smoothly. Phasma’s soldiers are loyal and meticulous. Nary a soul nor titan will escape on her watch! Asphodel appears to be in good working order. A trifle dismal, but I suspect that’s because of the solemn shades tramping about for eternity. Elysium is as bright as ever. No souls have escaped; there have been no injuries or incidents. All is well in Hades, Lord Hades.”

Settling back on his throne, Hades lets his head fall back with a quiet _thud_. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling and the motif of stars studding the black marble. It is a detail of his home few see and fewer still notice. The enchanted diamonds reflect the actual night sky. The sky above Hades’ throne, however, pales in comparison to the velvety dark of the true sky. This sky is finite, made of stone and diamond instead of ether and fire. 

Hades misses many things about life in the Overworld. The sky, however, is what he misses most of all. The sweeping vastness of it makes him feel small. His brethren will never understand why a god wants to feel inconsequential, but to Hades it has always been a comfort. A reminder that even when the day comes that the gods die, there will always be something up there that marked their lives. Constellations will one day dot the sky with the tales of heroes and fearsome beasts. A millenium in the future, someone will look up at that very sky and those very stars and carry the stories with them.

All at once, the marble palace walls seem to crowd in on the king. His breath is short. His heart thunders like one of Zeus’ storms. Everything is too small. Too close. Too tight for him to think. Hades needs to breathe.

He shoves himself up from his throne, nearly upturning the glass by his side. Hux skitters backwards, cowering from him. Without a word, Hades sweeps past him, the hem of his sable robes whispering across the floor.

_I have to get out of here._

Veering off to the right, he sprints down the hall that houses the living quarters. Dozens of empty doorways yawn as Hades races past without even a glance. All these rooms do is remind him how utterly alone he is. What he’s looking for isn’t in any of them. He skids to a halt outside of the ostentatious double doors at the end of the corridor. With a snap of his fingers, the doors swing inwards to reveal his living quarters. 

He bypasses the table, the garderobe, the bath and the luscious bed. Instead, he strides up to a lone pedestal in the corner of his room. Upon it sits a helm of black, threads of silver framing the eyes and mouth. It’s a nightmarish thing. The sort of item that belongs to times of war and bloodshed. It had served Hades well in the clash with the titans. Now, though, his helm holds a different purpose.

He plucks it from its place, setting his crown on the platform instead, and settles the cool metal over his head. A sensation falls over him, cool as twilight. When Hades glances down at himself, his form wavers… vanishes. Taking care to quiet his footsteps, Hades retreats from whence he came, satisfied that the cap of invisibility hasn’t lost any of its power.

With it, he’s able to walk the halls of his palace unseen and unheard. It’s rather like being a ghost. It makes him feel a little grey and pale, but there’s a strange delight that comes from seeing while remaining unseen.

Hades slips out of his palace without raising the alarm. The panic that had crawled into his throat abates a little with each step. The years of weight that press down on him lighten as he reaches the edge of his lands. He passes the pit of Tartarus, where his father Khronos and the other titans clash in perpetual misery, and the pale fields of Asphodel, where the dead wander forever.  
Elysium he steers clear of; the gaiety of the island has never been to his tastes. The Erinyes fly overhead, Alekto cracking her vicious whip at a poor soul who incurred her wrath. 

Onward Hades goes. Past the five rivers, even past his faithful hound Cerberus, who is snoozing on the banks and snoring so loud the cavern shakes. 

He can feel the change as soon as it happens. The strange moment where the oppressive dark of the Underworld gives way to the fresh air of the Overworld. When he finally comes to a stop, it is in the mouth of a cave. 

In front of him stretches the world. Golden fields sway in Zephyr’s gentle breeze. Birds circle overhead, singing sweet songs of summertide and peace. Sheep graze; shepherds tend them. When Hades turns his face upwards he gasps.

_It truly is beautiful up here._

To his eyes, the pale blue of the sky shines brighter than the richest sapphire. Apollo’s golden chariot arches across it, and Hades has to turn his eyes away. After so long underground, the light is blinding. He gingerly takes the helm off of his head, tucking it into the void of his robes that serves as a pocket.

If he’s to explore the Overworld, he has to dress like it. Hades closes his eyes, summoning up the image of the young gods that had gathered at Olympus during his last visit. When he opens them again, gone are the long black robes he favors. Instead, Hades sports a cream chiton that falls just below his knees. He forgoes sandals (it’s rare that he gets to feel the sun warmed earth beneath his feet) and takes a deep breath. His heart is trembling. This is it. With a slight gasp, Hades steps out of the cave and into the full sun. He tilts his face up, a warm smile growing on his face.

_Finally, free!_

~~~

Below Apollo’s gleaming chariot in the middle of a field of wildflowers, the daughter of the harvest frowns down at her lap. She’s in the middle of weaving a coronet of cornflowers and hyacinths, and one particular blossom is being a bother. Her nimble fingers work at the stem until it glides into place. She blows an errant strand of hair out of her face and looks around.

Perfect. Not that she expects any less from the realm of the mother of grain. Demeter takes great care for her home to be a prime example of nature’s glory. The fields are lush, the fruit sweet, the wine light, and the company pleasant. Of course, her crowning achievement is the young woman looking thoroughly put out and exasperated with the difficult ring of flowers in her hands.

Her mother tells her she’s beautiful, though Kore doesn’t know if she says it out of kindness or maternal responsibility. Her pale limbs are dotted with freckles from days spent lounging under the sun’s warmth. Her hair falls in elegant curls of chestnut brown, everlasting flowers woven into her hair like stars. Hazel eyes are flecked with gold that catches the light. 

A blue butterfly flutters past, breaking Kore’s focus. The dainty creature lands on the edge of a cornflower, sipping nectar daintily before taking flight again. It’s always summer here in her mother’s fields, but the clear skies and bountiful harvest doesn’t hold the glory it once did. She’s tired of the gentle loveliness of summer; she longs for raging storms and the thrill of the unknown. But she is bound to this place by a mother’s love and a chain of flowers.

She loves her mother; she does. The woman raised her well, teaching her how to reap the harvest, the secret songs that call forth life from the earth. Every step she takes sprouts life, every song she sings weaves life into her world. 

There is more out there. She catches a glimpse of the world Beyond sometimes, when the cluster of nymphs who follow her are caught up in their revelry. Nymphs may be beautiful, but they’re easily distractible. They hardly notice when Kore sneaks away to pull herself through the rough branches of the trees to spy outside of her mother’s lands. 

She sees Prometheus’ precious ones— _humans_ they’re called— toil and strive for the most basic of things. Shepherds tending their flocks. Women gathered around the loom, singing stories as they weave. The frailness of those untouched by the godly ichor that flows through the girl’s veins. Loss. Tragedy. Pain. Terror. Death.

She is not afraid of the world Beyond. She longs for it. There is so much out there, so many paths to take, so many mistakes to make. In her youthful naivete, she wants to do them all, but Mother will never allow it. She always returns to the golden fields, finds herself seated at her mother’s table, pouring summerwine, and drizzling honey on the fresh bread they bake together.

A sound draws near her: the bright laughter of her nymphs. Handmaidens, her mother calls them, but she knows what they really are. Her keepers. They are beautiful creatures and dear friends, but also a constant reminder that she has no freedom so long as she’s here.

A round-faced nymph flops gracelessly into the grass beside her, lush red blossoms crowning her head. She’s beautiful (all nymphs are) and has been Kore’s dearest friend for as long as she can remember. A creature of flowers and thorns, with just enough prickle that she is a delight to be around.

“Kore! We were worried about you. You were so quiet we thought you ran off.”

Kore smiles at her fondly. “I’ve been right here, Rose.” _I’m always here._

Ignorant of her companion’s melancholy, Rose rolls over onto her back. She sighs dreamily. “It’s so beautiful here, don’t you think? There’s nothing like a nap under the summer sky.” Kore glances up at Apollo’s chariot, shielding her eyes from its brilliance.

“I dunno,” she said. “I was thinking we’ve spent plenty of time in the sunshine today. I wouldn’t mind a bit of shade, to be honest.” She catches sight of a small grove of poplars not far from her spot. She points an elegant finger towards the grove. “We could go over there. Relax a little.”

“Are you sure, milady?” another nymph asks. “I don’t know that your mother—”

“She’s not here now,” Kore pushes herself to her feet, the abandoned circlet of flowers falling to her feet. “ I’m sure she wouldn’t want us to spend too much time in the heat. She finds Apollo and his pursuits ‘tasteless and base.’” The nymphs giggle at her impeccable impersonation of Demeter’s haughty tone. Kore is struck by an idea. A dangerous idea, to be sure, but the best ones always are. A smirk blossoms on her lips. 

“Hey. What do you say to a game of hide and seek?”

Ten minutes later, Kore is sprinting between the trunks of the poplar trees with her heart racing in her chest as Rose’s countdown fades behind her. Her steps are sure as she runs, the rush of wind in her hair and adrenaline in her veins helping her to fly across the cool ground. The wide-eyed fawns and long-eared rabbits watch her fly by. They’re used to her antics by now. As soon as she passes, they turn back to their grazing unfazed. 

Kore wants to shout or to sing! Finally, she has escaped from her mother’s spies. She’s on her own. It’s something she doesn’t take lightly. Solitude. It’s a rare thing for her, and Kore intends to appreciate its gift as much as she can before she is caught and called home. Her steps slow, and then stop. She huffs out a breath, bracing her arms against the small of her back. She’s a goddess, so this exertion hasn’t even made her break a sweat. She feels alive, though. Her whole body is singing.

She throws her head back, admiring the dappling of light through the leaves of the pretty poplars. She holds her hands up to the sunbeams, as though she can catch their golden streams in her hands like rain. Freedom is a heady wine; quick to dazzle and leaves one dizzy. Kore cannot get enough of it. She will drink from freedom’s cup for as long as she lives. It’s the one thing that makes her feel alive.

_Finally! I’m free._

A branch snaps to her left. Kore freezes, poised to run if one of her nymphs has strayed too close. But there is no sweet voice calling her name. No giggle like a breeze through leaves. Kore wills her body to calm, her shoulders falling. It must just be a creature caught in the underbrush. Her heart pulses with sadness. She can’t leave a poor animal to suffer alone. She wanders in search of it, her nymphs and their game forgotten as she climbs over ferns and bushes until she reaches a clearing.

The sun shines down onto a round of grass, young and green. Kore stops in the middle of it, tilting her head to ascertain the location of the poor frightened creature she is pursuing, but there are no more sounds, no footprints nor any indication such a creature had even been here. 

_I must be dreaming things,_ she tells herself. With a dainty shrug, she turns to run back into the woods. Only to be stopped by something solid and warm. She wobbles, uncharacteristically off-balance. Strong arms catch her, hot against the bare flesh of her arms. She can feel the flush rising in her cheeks. It isn’t often a goddess is caught on the wrong foot.

“Oh, I’m ever so sorry—” Kore begins to apologize before she looks up into the face of the person who caught her. “Oh,” she whispers with wide eyes.

It isn’t a satyr or dryad who held her in their arms. It was a man. Handsome, she notices absently, with lush black hair and dark eyes blown wide as if he’s just as surprised to find her in his arms as she is. A long, thin scar marrs his face, but it makes him no less beautiful. If anything, it makes him more so. They stand there, frozen. Neither able to break the embrace, both shocked by the circumstances they find themselves in.

It’s the man who breaks his silence first.

“Hello,” he breathes. “Are you alright?”


	2. You take me in your arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My Lady?” it calls. To Hades’ surprise, the girl swears softly under her breath and darts towards the nearest poplar. Her fingers brush its bark, and Hades resigns himself to being left in the grove alone. And then, the strangest thing happens. The nymph hesitates, turning to him. In three short strides, she is staring up at him.
> 
> Hades opens his mouth to ask— he’s not entirely sure what. Her slim hand slips into his and with a sharp tug— by the Styx she’s _strong_ — Hades is pulled, stumbling, after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes before I get started:
> 
> Persephone is called Kore in this story. It's one of her many epithets and roughly translates to 'the maiden'
> 
> All titles are taken from Hadestown the musical— I highly recommend giving it a listen!

Hades stares down at the young woman in his arms. Of all the things he expected from his visit topside, catching a beautiful woman as she barrels into him was certainly not on the list. His surprise is mirrored on her face, so close to his own, he can count each individual freckle that dots her cheeks and nose. A pale aura shimmers around her: the pale golden glow of immortality. Flowers are woven into the chestnut curls that cascade down her shoulders in a rich wave. 

A nymph, then. If Hades’ brothers were here, they would smirk and charm, hoping to beckon the girl into their bed. Hades is not his brothers. Instead of words of seduction, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hello. Are you alright?”

The nymph doesn’t reply—merely looks up at him with those wide hazel eyes and scans his face for any sign of malintent or malevolence.

She’s trembling in his arms. He releases her, and the girl dances back out of his reach. She stares at him with something akin to curiosity. Below her feet, a crop of small white flowers spring up. The girl doesn’t seem to notice, but Hades does. He can’t help but notice.

A sound startles him. It’s a voice. High and feminine, ringing through the trees like a bell. The girl gasps, whirling to identify the voice.

“My Lady?” it calls. To Hades’ surprise, the girl swears softly under her breath and darts towards the nearest poplar. Her fingers brush its bark, and Hades resigns himself to being left in the grove alone. And then, the strangest thing happens. The nymph hesitates, turning to him. In three short strides, she is staring up at him.

Hades opens his mouth to ask— he’s not entirely sure what. Her slim hand slips into his and with a sharp tug— by the Styx she’s _strong_ — Hades is pulled, stumbling, after her. 

Panic flutters in his chest as she drags him towards the tree. No, he wants to scream. I can’t do this! He digs in his heels, but the girl’s determination wins out. When she holds her hand to the tree, the bark warps around her fingertips, her hand plunging into its interior. Hades has time only to suck in a breath and close his eyes before he feels the bark ripple and allow him to pass into its center.

He expects pain to come as the particles of his being are scattered, merging with the life form that encompases him like a tomb. None comes. In the dark, his other senses sharpen. He can smell the rich sap— sweet and light— pulsing through the tree like blood. He can hear the rustling of the tree’s leaves, the far-off voices and his own ragged breathing. He can feel the girl pressed up against him— the tree isn’t particularly spacious— and the stutter of her breath against his face as the voices grow nearer.

“How—” Hades whispers. Her fingers fly up, pressing over his lips.

“Hush,” she breathes. “They’re coming.”

Hades strains, his godly hearing catching the patter of bare feet on soft grass. There are more than one set of footfalls; six or seven, by his reckoning. Though the girl can’t see him— at least, he hopes not— Hades looks down at where he presumes her face is and quirks a brow. Her hand is still over his mouth. He reminds himself to breathe. One set of footsteps stops just short of their tree. Both Hades and the girl suck in a breath, tensing in fear of being caught.

“Where in Zeus’ name did she go?” the nymph asks. Hades is reminded of Phasma’s dominating presence.

“Demeter won’t be pleased with us,” another whimpers. “We’re not supposed to stray so far from the meadows.”

“As long as we find the girl, no one has to know,” the first nymph says matter of factly. “She’s unfamiliar with these woods. There are some satyrs I know who owe me a favor. We’ll ask them to help cast our net.”

“Good idea, Rose. Hurry, we don’t have time to waste.” 

Hades releases a breath as the voices trailed off into the distance. The girl slumps against him in relief, her hand falling from his face and fisting in his chiton as her legs threaten to give way. Without thinking, Hades’ arms snake around her for the second time, holding her up against him. Her breathing is harsh, ragged. She isn’t crying, but Hades can sense the emotion well up inside her.

“Hey,” he whispers into her hair with a gentleness that surprises him. “You’re alright. It’s alright.” They stand there like that for a long moment, the girl shaking with unshed tears and Hades murmuring quiet reassurances. 

Finally, she straightens, looking up into his face. Here, in the dark of the heart of the tree, her immortal glow is even more pronounced. The look she gives him is— hard to describe. It’s full of childlike fear, overwhelming relief and something Hades doesn’t fully understand. She fumbles in the dark for his hand and he lets her. This time, he follows her lead as they step out of the tree and into the brilliant sunlight.

Hades screws his eyes shut, blinded by its intensity. It takes only a tiny moment to readjust to the sun. The girl never lets go of his hand. 

“Thank you.” Hades blinks, positive he misheard her.

“I’m sorry?”

“Thank you. For not giving me up to them.” She looks up at him.

“It’s no problem,” he tells her. “Why were they after you?” The girl drops his hand and wraps her arms around herself.

“I’m not supposed to be out here,” she admits. “Lady Demeter is very particular on the boundaries of her lands. These woods are technically the border of her territory, but it’s too close to the world of men. So, for my safety, I have to stay within the circle of the woods.”

“Because you’re a nymph?” Something strange passes behind the girl’s eyes before she shrugs.

“Something like that.” It’s an odd answer— unusually cryptic for a nymph, but Hades honestly can’t blame her. He isn’t particularly fond of talking about himself, either.

“So,” he says quickly to break the tense silence that has fallen between them. “This is Demeter’s land?” Hades looks around. She’s done well for herself since the war. Not that he really expected anything else— she always had been particularly fond of pretty growing things.

The girl nods. “From the cliffs to the south to the northern forest. The fields are the heart of her queendom, though.” She frowns. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I swear on the River Styx I won’t tell anyone.” His oath placates the girl and her shoulders drop a little. 

“Who are you, anyway? You’re not a satyr, nor are you mortal. You’re like no river god I’ve ever met, and you clearly aren’t an Olympian. You’re not nearly pretentious enough.” Hades snorts. His siblings are rather pompous. 

“You can call me Ben,” he says. He worries that telling her his true identity would be a mistake. In spite of himself, Hades likes her. He doesn’t want to scare her off. The girl smiles at him then— radiant and dazzling. It takes his breath away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ben.” She bends down to the cluster of white flowers that have, once more, grown up around her feet. She stretches her fingers and the blossoms tilt, drawn to her touch. Hades watches as the cluster of flowers grows higher and higher, and with a deft snap, the girl rends their stems and takes the bundle. She straightens and holds the bouquet out to him, a pink hue rising in her cheeks.

He stares at the flowers, then at the girl. “What’s this for?”

“A thank you. Surely you’ve been given a thank you gift before?”

_Most people aren’t quick to thank the god of the underground,_ Hades thinks wryly. “I spend most of my time on my own. There aren’t people who are around to give me gifts.” He shrugs. “It’s just the way things are.”

She recoils from him, her face twisted into a grimace. “That’s horrible!”

“I’m used to it. It doesn’t really bother me that much.” It’s a lie, but Hades has been saying it for so long it’s become habit. It’s a bit sad, he knows, but when you’re the least liked child of the king and queen of the Titans it’s a requirement. Simply a survival mechanism in his dysfunctional family.

The girl frowns. It’s awfully cute, how her nose scrunches up and her brow furrows. Not that Hades has been thinking about how cute she is. Or how her smile makes his stomach do flips. He hasn’t noticed that at all.

“Well, I think it’s awful. And you did help me to hide, so thank you, Ben.” She holds out the bouquet of flowers. He takes it from her gingerly, trying to ignore how his skin sparks where it brushes hers. The flowers are small and delicate, with yellow centers and lovely white petals.

“What are they?” he asks her. Her reply is half laugh, half gasp.

“Now you have to be joking. They’re daisies.” _Daisies._ A pretty word for pretty flowers.

“They’re lovely,” he tells her earnestly. “I wish I could grow flowers like you do.”

“It’s nothing special,” she murmurs, her eyes escaping to the ground.

“It is,” Hades insisted. “I can’t keep things alive for the life of me. I wish I could, I just don’t have the touch.” A strange look crosses her face as she steps forward. Carefully removing one pristine daisy from the bouquet, she reaches up and tucks the flower behind Hades’ ear. He can feel his ears turn red. The girl hovers there for a moment, assessing the situation before smiling shyly and leaning forward. She places a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“What?” Hades breathes, eyes meeting hers. The girl with the smile like sunshine doesn’t answer, though. She just stands there, a breath away, looking up at him with those hazel eyes that draw him in.

She opens her mouth to say something when a great shout rends the air. She jumps, whirling like a maple seed to face the noise. Her hair fans behind her like bird’s wings, and as she rises to her toes, Hades almost expects her to take flight and soar away from him.

“I have to go,” she hisses. Hades is reaching for her, the question rising on his lips. 

“Wait— what’s—” but she’s already gone before he can ask. “What’s your name?” Hades asks the empty glade. There is no answer. Hades is alone, with only a bouquet of daisies and fingers on his cheek where she had kissed him.

_Who is she?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that daisies are sacred to Persephone and also our lovely Daisy Ridley is a total coincidence, but one I was very excited to discover!
> 
> Benjamin (Ben) is a name that either means 'son of the right hand' (a reference to being Kronos and Rhea's son) or 'son of the south' (a reference to his kingdom in the Underworld)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated! Thank you so much for reading ^^


	3. A man with feathers on his feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re too pretty to look sad.” Her eyes fly open. The man— for he certainly is a man— stands before her with his arms crossed and a roguish grin on his face. He’s handsome, with olive skin and rich curls crowning his head. Kore recognizes him by the sandals on his feet: each affixed with a pair of beautiful white wings.
> 
> “Hermes,” she names him. “The messenger.” Hermes bows with no fair shortage of theatrics.
> 
> “At your service, my lady.” The bold reply makes Kore blush, which Hermes seems to delight in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermes is the god of messengers, thieves, travelers, and also serves as a psychopomp—one who guides souls to the Underworld. He's known for being a bit of a rogue and a rake, so of course I made him our favorite X-wing pilot!
> 
> I hope you're all doing well. If things are a bit gloomy, I hope my little story lifts your spirits!

The warm cottage smells of baking bread and freshly chopped herbs. Humming to herself, Kore sprinkles a pinch of rosemary into the dough for the next batch. Her mother insists they bake together once a week. It’s actually nice. Baking day is the one time Kore and Demeter don’t argue. They huddle together by the fire, rolling out the dough into flat circles, and singing songs of grain and harvest. 

Despite her focus on kneading the dough into its proper shape, Kore finds her mind is wandering, as it so often has been, to Ben. Tall, beautiful Ben with his dark eyes and lovely hair and the shy smile when she handed him the daisies. Sad, lonely Ben who didn’t even realize the sorrow that traced the lines of his face and threads itself through his very soul. Kind, gentle Ben who listened to her talk about her mother and wished that she could escape her life.

 _Her_ Ben, as she’s come to think of him, is all of those things and more. She laments that their time together was cut short. Fate is a cruel mistress, especially for those with golden _ichor_ in their veins in place of the common red blood of mankind.

Kore wonders if he’s thinking of her. Does he even care about his encounter with a total stranger? Did she imprint herself onto his mind like he has hers? Her thoughts are drawn to him like an arrow, arching into the air only to bury themselves in the few moments they had together.

Her mind is full of him. His smile, his laugh, the feeling of him pressed against her as they hid from the nymphs. Kore smiles a soft, private smile. Her initial fear of meeting him had given way to the shock of what she’d done. Standing toe to toe with a complete stranger. A _man_. He was so broad, wide like a mountain and twice as sturdy. Her skin still prickles where he had caught her like sparks bursting from a flame.

Folding the dough over and over, Kore frowns a little. She wonders if she’ll see him again. She wants to. Wants to see him, to get to know him. There was something about him— Kore doesn’t know what it is precisely, but Ben’s mystery has infiltrated every moment of her life. She expects to see him everywhere, but he’s nowhere.

“Kore.” Her mother’s voice jolts her into the present moment. Demeter is staring at her expectantly, clearly having just asked something.

“Sorry, I was somewhere else.”

“My beautiful girl,” Demeter sighs. “You have no reason to wander away. We have work to do.” Not even her thoughts are safe anymore. _Stars,_ Kore can’t wait to escape this place again.

“I know, mother.”

“I asked you how your dough is doing. That batch seems particularly bothersome.” Kore frowns and the mound in front of her. She doesn’t have her mother’s talent for wrangling it into a pleasant shape. Demeter is the queen of grain and wheat. But Kore... her inclination is towards the wild and the lovely. Flowers and trees and thorns. Baking is something she enjoys, but it does not come naturally. This is a skill she has honed over her young life, but still there is room to improve. Demeter will always critique and instruct. 

The room is too small, too crowded, too hot. Kore finds herself gasping for air, her flour-coated hands jumping up to her throat as the air seems to sharpen and pierce her flesh.

“It’s fine,” she gasps. “I think I just need a moment.” Before her mother can protest, Kore flees out the open door and into the garden.

Her feet don’t slow until she’s almost to the edge of the garden. She doubles over, past caring that her hands are smearing dough and flour on her skirt. The air here is sweet and cool, carrying the fragrances of a dozen flowers. Lilies and narcissus, lavender and rose, snapdragons and daisies. Even the lemon tree lends its bright aroma to the air. A far cry from her crowded home. 

Staggering toward the low stone wall, Kore leans against it heavily. Sweat pools between her shoulder blades, cool where the evening breeze kisses her skin. Her hair is plastered to her neck; she didn’t even know immortals could react like this. It’s the price, she supposes, of being trapped at home with someone she doesn’t fully trust and who doesn’t trust her.  
A shiver runs through her at the thought and she wraps her arms around herself, seeking any modicum of comfort. Then she feels the phantom touch of a hand spanning her lower back. She can feel her world still, her heart pounding, as she hears the gentle voice that has haunted her these past weeks.

 _“You’re alright. It’s alright.”_ She glances over her shoulder, half expecting to see him smiling down at her. But Kore is utterly alone. She presses her hands to her face and groans.

“Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

There is no answer, though it’s not like Kore expects one. Ben is far away. She doesn’t know where, she just knows he’s unreachable. The nymphs probably scared him off by the mentions of an Olympian. Most minor deities and other assorted immortals avoid crossing paths with the twelve— they’d rather not get involved in the drama Olympus fosters. 

For the thousandth time, Kore curses her weighty lineage. She is the daughter of two Olympians: Demeter having taken Zeus to her bed just the once. Kore tries not to think of herself as Zeus’ daughter. She’s repelled by him. His rule over Olympus makes him untouchable, and while he brings law and order, he sews chaos and violence with his many seductions and offspring. Kore is not like them. She doesn’t even think of them as brothers or sisters; she’s Demeter’s daughter. She does not claim her sire, nor does she want to. In fact, she’d be happy if she never meets Zeus.

Looking up to the heavens, she finds herself scanning the stars. The heavens are Zeus’ domain, but the wild of the night sky is guarded by his daughter Artemis just as the day is drawn by shining Apollo. They’re twins, the gods of moon and sun. What must it be like to always have a companion and friend to talk to? 

Kore had once asked her mother why she couldn’t have a brother or sister to play with.

Demeter would kiss her forehead. “Because all I need is you, little flower.”

It makes Kore want to vomit.

She knows very little about how other families work, but living here with Demeter is stifling. She can’t breath, can’t stretch her wings. She is trapped in these fields like a songbird in a cage. A pretty thing made to perform and be put on display, nothing more. She frowns into the night, shutting her eyes against the dark thoughts swirling in her head.

A bird beats its wings nearby. Kore pays it no mind.

“You’re too pretty to look sad.” Her eyes fly open. The man— for he certainly is a man— stands before her with his arms crossed and a roguish grin on his face. He’s handsome, with olive skin and rich curls crowning his head. Kore recognizes him by the sandals on his feet: each affixed with a pair of beautiful white wings.

“Hermes,” she names him. “The messenger.” Hermes bows with no fair shortage of theatrics.

“At your service, my lady.” The bold reply makes Kore blush, which Hermes seems to delight in.

“What are you doing here?” Kore asks him. She manages a cool pleasant tone, though her embarrassment is pulsing in her cheeks with every heartbeat.

“Why, delivering the mail, of course.” From the satchel hanging at his hip, the god produces a beautiful gilded scroll. Kore gasps at the sight of it. “A correspondance all the way from Olympus,” he explains to her. “Zeus himself asked me to deliver it.” At the mention of her father, Kore’s burning blush cools to ice.

“Ah,” she says simply. Hermes quirks an eyebrow, a puckish twinkle in his dark eyes.

“You’re not a fan of the Sky King, I’d wager.” Kore shrugs diplomatically.

“We’ve never met, so I really can’t say.”

“Fortuitous, then, that this scroll is an invitation to his golden halls.” Kore opens her mouth to ask him what on earth he means when her mother’s voice calls from the doorway.

“Kore, what’s the matter? You’ve been out there forev—” the goddess stops dead in her tracks. “Oh! Hermes. We weren’t expecting company.”

“It’s alright, auntie,” he grins. “I didn’t warn you that I was coming.” 

“What brings you to our fields?” Demeter asks as she daintily crosses the threshold.

“A letter from Zeus.” Demeter takes the scroll from it, unfurling with a small frown that looks so like Kore’s.

“He can’t be serious,” the goddess gasps, honey eyes flitting up to her nephew’s face. Hermes shrugs. 

“You know how dad loves a party. Besides, you haven’t been to Olympus in a while, and they want to gather the whole pantheon.”

“Zeus wants to get drunk on nectar and prove his power over us all,” Demeter retorts flatly. “But he is my brother, so I will go.” 

“And her, too,” Hermes clarifies. Both women stare at him.

“What?” Kore blurts out.

“Well, Zeus is your father. You’ve been living down here, and he wants to meet you. We all want to meet fair Persephone.”

“She goes by Kore,” Demeter informs Hermes proudly. 

Kore seethes silently. She knows where her name comes from (Demeter had told her from a young age, believing in candor). Her mother is determined to keep her daughter by her side for eternity. She is to be like her aunt Hestia, and her half-sisters Athena and Artemis. Forever maiden and pure. It’s in her very name— _Kore. The Maiden._

Kore doesn’t want to be the maiden forever. She wants more.

“Come in, Hermes,” she hears her mother saying sweetly. “Your travels take you far, and you must be famished. Come. We have bread and wine enough to share.”

“Thank you, your hospitality is appreciated.”

Kore is left no choice but to follow her mother and the messenger into her home, dread settling in her stomach like a stone.

Hermes is rambunctious, lively, and temperamental. He laughs, drinks, sings, and rages in equal measure. Kore is startled by the speed of his moods, flashing like quicksilver through him. But he is charming and kind, and Kore finds herself unable to hate him. In fact, she rather likes his quick wit and bright smile. When Demeter goes to the larder to fetch more summerwine, Hermes fixes his eyes on Kore.

“So,” he begins. The look on his face oozes mischief and curiosity. Kore raises her guard, preparing herself for what is undoubtedly going to be an onslaught of questions.

“So,” she replies evenly, taking a steadying sip of wine.

“You really are as beautiful as the stories say.” She arches her brow.

“There are stories about me? I haven’t done anything worth talking about.” Hermes drums his fingers against the table (he seems incapable of sitting still) and hums.

“Well, you are a goddess. There are stories no matter what you have and haven’t done. These stories don’t do you justice, though. There’s no legend that can truly capture your beauty.” Kore blushes. The flirtation is unexpected and makes her feel— she’s not quite sure what, per se, but Kore knows she doesn’t like it.

“I’m nothing special. I’m nobody.”

“You’re the granddaughter of Kronus, the mad titan. Your mother is Demeter, goddess of harvest. Your father is Zeus, king of the thunder and the skies. You come from a legacy, Kore.” She visibly recoils at the name and Hermes laughs. “Not fond of the name your mother gave you, milady?”

“Kore is a nickname. A relic from childhood. I am not a child anymore.”

“No, you most certainly are not,” he agreed. “So you have a lover, then.” The heat in her face tells her she’s blushing furiously.

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh? You’re telling me that there is no god or satyr— I won’t judge— who warms your bed?” She glares at him.

“I’m literally called _the maiden._ What do you think?”

“No nymph or nereid either, then?” She shakes her head and Hermes hums, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Are you quite done?” Kore snaps.

“Teasing you? Not in the slightest.”

“You know what you are?” Kore crosses her arms. “You’re difficult. You’re a very difficult man.”

“People usually say I’m charming, but I can see where you could get confused.”

“I’m not confused. I might be sheltered, but I know enough about men like you to know I don’t want anything you can give me.”

“Who says I can’t?”

Kore sets her glass down and fixes him with her sharpest glare. He has the decency to look surprised.

“What I want is freedom,” she tells him coolly. “Marriage is but another form of capture. I have spent my whole life trapped inside a gilded cage. I assure you, once I escape it I will never, ever return to it. Marrying you—or any other— would be as good as cutting off my own wings and still hoping to fly.”

Hermes rubs the back of his neck, sheepish.

“I meant no offense, Persephone. Forgive me?”

“Hmm. Only if you give me something.” It was Hermes’ turn to look confused.

“Anything.”

“Tell me stories of the gods.” He relaxes visibly at her request. By the time Demeter returns with more wine, Hermes and Kore are laughing jovially at an anecdote of how he had tricked his half-brother Apollo out of his sacred cows. Kore finds it easier to be around Hermes when he isn’t lavishing her with innuendo and suggestion. His adventures across the world on errands for Zeus are incredible, daring, and probably more than a little bit embellished, but she doesn’t care. If this is the closest she can get to freedom, then she will hang on every word.

Lifting her wineglass to her lips, Kore smiles to herself. This is almost normal, having a guest at their house telling wild stories and spending the evening in pleasant company. As the alcohol fizzes at the edges of her mind, Kore wonders if Ben is similarly drinking wine and enjoying the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading ^^ Kudos and comments are so incredibly helpful.


	4. The greater the weight of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swallowing sharply, Hades unfurls the scroll to discover his fate. When he finishes reading it, he looks up at Hermes in disbelief.
> 
> “A party?”
> 
> “Yeah,” Hermes crosses his arms. “You know Olympus hasn’t had a good old fashioned party in ages. There are a lot more gods—not just us Olympians. There are loads of minor godlings and nymphs and their ilk about, and it seems we’re long overdue for a family reunion.” 
> 
> Hades groans and drops his head in his hands. Their family is dysfunctional, chaotic, and there are so many petty squabbles he’s long since lost track of who is angry at whom.
> 
> “I don’t like this,” he complains. Hermes shrugs.
> 
> “Well, you’re coming. You don’t really have a choice. No matter how much you hate it, Hades, you are one of us.”

In his marble palace in the Underworld, Hades is growing more and more frustrated. The quandary he has isn’t a matter of business, but one of pleasure. Or rather, preservation. Scowling, Hades reaches for his tea, choking a bit when he realizes that sometime in the last few minutes it has gone cold. He sets it aside. It’s not like that was his main focus, anyway. The daisies sit in front of him, taunting. 

He stares at the daisies, committing every single detail to his memory. The girl (Rey, as he’s taken to calling her) was somehow strong enough that her magic is still holding on even here in the Underworld, but it’s waning now. The flowers haven’t begun to droop, yet the shimmer of her enchantment is fading with every passing day. Hades can’t bear to part with this gift just yet, so he’s locked himself in his chambers until he arrives at a solution.

As a god of the dead, he’s out of his depth. Keeping things alive is possibly the farthest thing from Hades’ usual duties. But time is running out, and Hades has to find a way to preserve the bouquet. He thinks of his realm, trying to find any facet of his power that he can use. What is he the god of? Darkness and rock, fire and gems. Gems...

Drawing his brows together in deep focus, Hades lifts a single finger and slowly, slowly reaches out to brush his fingertip over the tip of one of the petals. A beautiful ripple passes over the flowers, and before his eyes they begin to change. White petals become delicate moonstone, the bright middle turned to topaz and the stems and leaves a perfect emerald. The flowers have turned entirely to precious gems, but the thrum of life still dwells inside of them. 

He did it.

Hades releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He picks up the cluster of precious flowers, turning them so the facets in the stones catch the light and send it scattering across the walls of his quarters. His heart flutters in his chest like a bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. He did it. He wishes he could find Rey again and show her. Her face would light up. He’d hand the flowers back to her, explain that he wanted to ensure they would last forever. She would throw her arms around his neck and murmur a quiet ‘thank you’ before turning to kiss him—

“Sir?” Hades jolts and bangs his knee on the table in front of him. He winces, then straightens. Phasma stands in the door, her pale hair and piercing eyes peering out from the chrome helmet she wears to discipline errant souls.

“Yes, Phasma, what is it?”

“Lord Hermes is here wishing to speak with you,” she says in her crisp clipped accent. Hades stands, ignoring the throb of protest in his leg.

“Of course. Let him in.” She nods and steps aside to allow the handsome young god to enter Hades’ chambers. Hermes is the same as the last time Hades had seen him— youthful, exuberant, calculating... and a dear friend.

“Hades, my old friend,” Hermes drawls. “You’re looking well.” His gaze falls on the table. Hades’ fingers twitch toward the flowers, but he forces them to settle on the polished surface.

“As are you. What brings you all the way down to my desolate kingdom?”

“Desolate? Someone’s in a mood.” Hermes chuckles to himself. “Then again, you always are.”

“Funny,” Hades growls. “What does my brother want to nag me about this time?” Hermes places a hand on his chest in mock affront.

“What? I can’t come to the Underworld to visit my oldest friend?” Hades shoots him a look and Hermes relents with a smile. “Fine. Zeus has a message for you. He said you’re not going to like it, but there’s nothing you can do about it and if you refuse, he’s going to seal you in Sousaki to simmer for the next ten thousand years.” 

Hades’ heart plummets. Zeus is an arse and entitled brat, but he’s a man of his word. Swallowing sharply, Hades unfurls the scroll to discover his fate. When he finishes reading it, he looks up at Hermes in disbelief.

“A party?”

“Yeah,” Hermes crosses his arms. “You know Olympus hasn’t had a good old fashioned party in ages. There are a lot more gods—not just us Olympians. There are loads of minor godlings and nymphs and their ilk about, and it seems we’re long overdue for a family reunion.” 

Hades groans and drops his head in his hands. Their family is dysfunctional, chaotic, and there are so many petty squabbles he’s long since lost track of who is angry at whom.

“I don’t like this,” he complains. Hermes shrugs.

“Well, you’re coming. You don’t really have a choice. No matter how much you hate it, Hades, you are one of us.”

“I’m not,” he counters. “I’m not an Olympian. Neither is Hestia. Brother dear was so eager to put his sons and daughters on the council that some of us got left behind.”

“Ouch, you wound me, Uncle. I thought you told Zeus you didn’t want any part of his council, anyway.”

“Well, yes I did,” Hades admits. “But that’s only because he’s my annoying younger brother who’s now my older brother because our dad was the world’s worst father and swallowed us all as infants save for perfect, precious Zeus.” Bitterness laces his tone. It is a slight he has never been able to forgive. Zeus took the inheritance that was rightly Hades’, but by being the ‘oldest’ child, Zeus got it without question.

He gets up and goes to the sideboard, pouring them both a measure of the sweet honey wine the gods love— _nectar._ Hermes accepts his glass, taking a sip of the golden liquid. Hades downs his, then pours another before rejoining his friend at the marble table. 

As the nectar hits his system, Hades is suffused with warmth. A lovely golden glow shines from his core. It’s similar to the glow that surrounds Rey, his muddled thoughts put together. His own immortal sheen is stifled by decades trapped in the Underworld, where access to nectar and ambrosia is tenuous at best, nonexistent at worst. Besides, Hades has grown fond of the food of mortals. Fruit and meat grace his table as often as honeyed wine and the golden cubes of ambrosia.

Amusement crinkles the corners of the messenger’s eyes.

“You _are_ in a mood,” he says, delighted. “Now you have to tell me why.”

“I don’t think I do,” Hades retorts.

“I flew all this way to deliver a very lovely party invitation and this is how you repay me? With jabs and barbs that sting but do not stick? Come now, Hades. We’ve been friends for quite some time. Surely you can tell your friend what’s going on with you?”

Part of him wants to. The weight of his secret—the visit, his encounter with Rey, how he’s terrified that he’s fallen in love with this girl and he doesn’t even know her real name and has even gone so far as to preserve the flowers she gave him in precious stones—crushes him. Telling Hermes would ease that burden he’s been carrying these past weeks. The loneliness stirs in his heart, and Hades can taste the words already on his tongue before he shakes his head.

“It’s nothing,” he lies. “I’m just frustrated that Zeus is summoning me like I’m his dog.” Hermes laughs, bright and sweet. Hades can’t help but wish it was a different laugh he heard.

“By the stars, you really hate him, don’t you?”

“I don’t _hate_ him,” Hades protests. “I just think he’s a pretentious arse who thinks he’s better than the rest of us because Mother finally realized she should probably stop her husband from swallowing their children whole and saved him first.” He folds his arms across his chest, a sour look on his face.

“I suppose that’s fair. But he is your brother. And my father. Without him you’d still be trapped in Kronos’ stomach, and I wouldn’t be born. We owe him.”

“That’s the problem,” Hades grumbles. “Everyone owes him for something.” He downs the rest of his drink and studies the amber drops clinging to the bottom of the glass before deciding that he needs another. Hermes silently offers his own glass—slowly sipped until empty—and Hades brings the bottle back from the sideboard. He pours himself three fingers, Hermes a little less.

As the wine warms his blood and mellows his mind, Hades slowly relaxes. The weight of his burden slides from his shoulders, and he droops into his chair with a sigh. It is rare that he is able to relax like this. Hermes, naturally, isn’t nearly as inebriated as Hades, but the king finds he doesn’t care. It is later in the evening, when the nectar has warmed his whole being and loosened his tongue, that he finds himself confessing.

“I left the Underworld.” Hermes stiffens visibly in his chair, fixing his dark eyes on Hades who offers a small drowsy grin in return.

“You did _what?”_ Hades flaps a hand.

“It’s fine. No one noticed. I mean, we both would’ve known if my absence had been noticed. My siblings are gossips.” Hades couldn’t see Hermes’ knuckles turn white as he gripped the arms of his chair.

“Hades, you know going topside is dangerous. You could’ve been seen! You could’ve been caught. You know how those mortals are. One glimpse of a death god and boom! Absolute chaos. If Zeus finds out—”

“He won’t. Only one person saw me. I told you, it’s fine.” Hermes pales a shade.

“Someone _saw?_ You absolute idiot, why didn’t you bring your cap of invisibility?”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Hades grouses.

“Very.”

“I brought it. But... it’s been so long since I got to feel the sun on my skin, so I—I took it off. I wasn’t intending to run into anyone, I swear on the Styx. I was walking through the forest and all of a sudden this girl ran into me, and she nearly fell so of course I caught her and—” 

“You caught her. A mortal.” Hades squints, recalling Rey’s golden light. He shakes his head. Hermes sags in relief, though the look in his eyes still says that he is terrified by Hades’ confession.

“Immortal, then. That’s good. Who was she?”

“I—I don’t know. She never told me her name.”

“Did you tell her yours?”

“Of course not, Hermes,” Hades snaps. He’s offended that his friend would believe him to be such an idiot. “I told her my name is Ben.” He had been rather proud of his pseudonym.

“And? What happened? If I’m going to help you, I need to know the details.” Hermes wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Hades recoils as if struck.

“It—it wasn’t like that!” he protests. “She was hiding from some people, so she pulled us both into a tree until her pursuers passed us by. There wasn’t anything else that happened. I swear it.” Hermes’ brow furrows as he considers Hades’ words. There’s something in his eye—an intelligent twinkle that Hades doesn’t trust at all. In fact, it scares him.

“Huh,” the messenger god offers in reply. “So she was a, what? Dryad?” Hades shrugs.

“Never got the chance to ask, if I’m honest.”

“Well at least that explains the flowers.” Hades goes scarlet, already fumbling for some half-planned lie. Hermes silences him with a look. “Come on, Hades. You’re good at a great many things. Gardening isn’t one of them.” Hades shuts his mouth with a _snap._ Hermes is right, of course. That was the whole reason he had embalmed the flowers in moonstone.

“I’m going to regret telling you this, aren’t I?”

“Probably, knowing you. As it happens, I have a solution for your pining heart. Yes, you are pining, don't try to lie to me. You’re sighing more than a lovesick maiden. This party at Olympus is going to have all of the most important and beautiful immortals in attendance. I’m willing to bet that your mystery girl might be there. So, you’re going to this gala. If not for your brother, then at least for this girl you’re so obsessed with. Hell, I’ll even help you find her. Deal?”

Hades stares at Hermes’ proffered hand, considering. He hates parties almost as much as he hates the Underworld. But if there’s even the slightest chance he could see Rey again—

“Deal.” He shakes Hermes’ hand firmly, and the younger god flashes a brilliant grin.

“I’ll tell you what. This party is going to be really interesting.”

Hades bites back a groan. He can’t help but feel that he’s going to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sousaki is a volcano in northeastern Corinthia.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I promise, the party is next. The only question is, will Hades and Kore figure out the other's identity?
> 
> Comments and kudos are keeping me sane in these times of Covid and also moving across state lines. I still plan on uploading regularly, though!


	5. Someone I have always known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in her life, Kore is face to face with her father. He looks equally as surprised as she feels; there’s something in his eyes that strides the line between pride and covetousness. It makes her shiver.
> 
> “Zeus, this is my daughter.” Demeter’s voice cuts through the moment, releasing Kore from her trance. She curtsies slightly, hands grasping at her skirts to hide the fact that they’re shaking.
> 
> “My lord,” she says meekly. 
> 
> “My little Persephone,” Zeus replies. His hand comes up to tilt her chin, forcing her eyes back up to his. She fights the urge to squirm out of his grasp. “How beautiful you’ve become. Welcome to Olympus, daughter of mine.” 
> 
> It's finally time for the party on Olympus. Kore stuns the other immortals with her first public appearance, but she can't help but search for a familiar face...

She looks at her reflection in the bronze mirror, considering herself. With the help of Rose, her hair is piled on top of her head in an elegant coif with a curtain of curls falling down her back in ripples, gold flower pins holding the elaborate updo in place. Her dress is white—it’s the only color her mother lets her wear—with beautiful embroidered flowers rising up from the hems towards the bodice. She still refuses to wear sandals, though. Old habits die hard.

She looks grown up. Like a proper nature goddess and not Demeter’s pretty little daughter.

“There we go,” Rose says with a nod as she fastens the final pin in place. “You look like a queen.”

Kore tilts her head with a smile. “No,” she says. “I look like Persephone.”

Her mother is wearing a simple wheat colored dress, dull and perfect for her. The harvest isn’t flashy; it simply is.

“Ready, my sweet?” Demeter asks. Kore takes a steadying breath as they step into the garden and are swept up gently by Zephyrus’ warm breeze. With his help, the trip to Olympus is short and pleasant. Kore watches the world below fly by. Longing pings in her heart as she is carried away from it and up into her father’s palace.

Olympus is majestic. White pillars hold up the very clouds, gold filigree covering nearly every surface. The air smells of nectar and ambrosia and pine, coalescing into an intoxicating perfume that reeks of the mysterious and the ethereal. Bronze sconces light the path into the heart of the palace. With every step, Kore’s heart pounds a little faster. This is her first time anywhere outside of her mother’s realm, and the excitement beats in her chest like a bird. It is all she can do not to examine every alcove, every statue, wave at every god and nymph that they pass. But that behavior does not befit a woman of her station, so she resists the urge and struggles to keep up with her mother’s brisk pace.

Golden doors swing open to the main hall of Olympus. She gasps, dazzled by the sight before her. The room is huge and as ostentatious as the rest of the palace. But... this is not what takes her breath away. It’s the _people._ The hall is filled with dozens of immortals, all dressed for a party and each more dazzling than the last. She spots Hermes amidst the crowd. He gives her a small wave, though judging by the way his mouth hangs open he is surprised to see her looking this elegant. Kore tilts her chin proudly. She takes pride in the idea that she could surprise him.

“Sister!” booms a deep voice like rolling thunder. The gathered people part to reveal a man with storm grey eyes and a beard as wild as a hurricane. He is powerful—Kore can feel it rolling off of him in electrifying waves—and judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, Kore knows exactly who this man is.

Her mother puts her hands on her hips in that familiar way. “Zeus,” Demeter says calmly. “Why are you so surprised to see me? You sent an invitation, so here I am.” 

Zeus. The King of Olympus. Kore’s father. She fights the urge to search for herself in his features. She wants nothing to do with this man, she reminds herself. But she cannot deny that there is something magnetizing about the thunderer as he steps towards them and pulls her mother into a warm hug.

“Demeter,” he teases with a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t be sore. It’s a party! Everyone is invited. Even Hades is coming.” Demeter curls her lip.

“He is staying far from me. Last time, he killed half of my crops!”

“He’s Hades. He kills everything.” This comment comes from a man with dark hair and sea-green eyes. Poseidon, Kore guesses. Then Zeus turns his eyes on her, and the whole room goes deathly still.

She stares up at him, for once silent. For the first time in her life, Kore is face to face with her father. He looks equally as surprised as she feels; there’s something in his eyes that strides the line between pride and covetousness. It makes her shiver.

“Zeus, this is my daughter.” Demeter’s voice cuts through the moment, releasing Kore from her trance. She curtsies slightly, hands grasping at her skirts to hide the fact that they’re shaking.

“My lord,” she says meekly. 

“My little Persephone,” Zeus replies. His hand comes up to tilt her chin, forcing her eyes back up to his. She fights the urge to squirm out of his grasp. “How beautiful you’ve become. Welcome to Olympus, daughter of mine.” He steps back—mercy of mercies— and Kore finds herself able to breathe again. His eyes are still on hers as he turns to address the crowd.

“Welcome, all, to Olympus! Please, feast and drink and make merry. This is a party, after all!” He steps back into the crowd, but their eyes no longer follow the king. To her shock, they are all still staring right at _her._

“Well, you scrub up nicely.” Hermes is leaning against a pillar to her right, his usual bright countenance back.

“I might live in the wilds, but I’m still a goddess, Hermes,” she tells him, folding her arms across her chest.

“Aye, that you are.” His gaze drags over her.

“Not you, too.” When he raises a dark brow, Kore shakes her head.

“You’re staring at me. Everyone is.”

“It’s a little hard not to. Most of us haven’t ever seen you before. You’ve been somewhat of a mystery on Olympus. So when you sweep in here looking like that—” he trails off. Kore fidgets, smoothing the fabric of her gown over her thighs. She’s unused to this sort of attention, and she finds herself unsure of what exactly to do.

“Well,” she says haltingly. “What do I do now?” Hermes takes one look at her blanched face and lets out a low whistle. 

“You are coming with me to get a drink. It’ll help, I promise.” He loops his arm through hers and Kore lets him lead her to the nearest banquet table. It is arranged with every kind of fruit and cut of meat imaginable. Hermes deftly plucks two glasses that are filled with the sweet nectar and hands one to her. 

Kore downs it in one. Hermes gives her an appreciative grin before filling her glass again. She forces herself to slow down, sipping at her second instead of throwing it back again; though the urge is certainly still there. She drapes herself against the nearest pillar and observes the crowd, trying to pick out the faces she recognizes from their descriptions. She’s about to ask Hermes their names when two figures step in front of her.

The woman is beautiful, her silvery dress shining against her dark skin. Her wild hair is held in place by a circlet with a crescent moon lying in the center of her brow. She looks wild and terrible and beautiful. The man beside her is draped in elegant gold folds of cloth with skin equally as rich and dark as the woman’s. He shines like the sun itself and it’s this that makes Kore realize who she is about to address.

“Artemis. Apollo. It’s lovely to meet you.” The twins nod back; Artemis solemnly, Apollo cheerfully. Opposites and equals.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” the sun god tells her in a voice as warm as summertime. “You know, rather than spotting you from my chariot.” Artemis elbows her brother in the side. “Ow!” he complains. She ignores him.

“You are most welcome here, Persephone. Just be careful. The gods of Olympus are powerful and covet what they see. Take care; this palace is a viper pit.” Apollo groans.

“Sis, you really need to stop ruining the mood. I’m sorry about her,” he tells Kore earnestly. “She thinks everyone is either hunter or prey.”

“They are,” Artemis declares.

“No, they aren’t! Not everything can be solved with your bow, moonbrain.”

“Nor can it be solved with some bad poetry from an oracle, sunspot.” The twins glare at each other with such naked disgust Kore can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll admit, when I thought about meeting the famous celestial twins, I never thought they’d bicker quite like this.” Artemis slugs her brother in the shoulder. Apollo barely conceals his wince.

“That’s just how siblings are, Persephone. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Artemis dips her head before grabbing her brother by the arm and walking off into the depths of the party. Apollo tries to say something, but he’s being dragged away before he can get it out. Kore turns to Hermes with a light smile.

“Is this always how things are around here?” He shrugs.

“More or less. Somehow, the twins are the least dramatic of all of us. Look over there,” he points and Kore follows his gaze to a tall man with golden bracers still strapped to his muscular forearms. He’s deep in conversation with a woman who is rather hard to describe. Kore couldn’t tell you what color her eyes were or the length of her hair. What she does know is that the woman is incandescently beautiful.

“Ares and Aphrodite,” Hermes confirms. “Bolder than usual. Ares must be drunk. Normally they sneak off to hide in the bushes before the petting starts.” And it has already begun. Her pale hands slither up Ares’ chest in such a sensual way that Kore coughs awkwardly. 

“Bit of a voyeur, Hermes?” she asks to mask her own discomfort with watching the war god’s hands roam over Aphrodite’s backside.

“No, they’re just exhibitionists. This is tasteless, even for them. Hephaestus is still in the room for Zeus’ sake,” Hermes grumbles. Kore scours the crowd until she spots him: a grizzled hunchback with a wild black beard. He’s wearing a heavy leather apron, and she wonders if they have just pulled the master from his forge. He meets her eyes and she waves at him, eyes crinkling. She can’t help but feel sorry for him. Hephaestus raises his glass to her, black eyes shining. Kore gets the feeling Hephaestus doesn’t get many kind gestures. It makes her sad.

He reminds her of Ben with the way he carries his sorrow in a chip on his shoulder. Both men are mountainous, though where Hephaestus is aesthetically lacking, Ben is nothing short of breathtaking. Kore has been searching for him since she entered Olympus. She hasn’t caught a single glimpse of his shining black hair or his warm eyes. A small piece of her wilts, hope slipping through her fingers like summer rain. Maybe she was wrong.

Hermes takes control of the silence that has fallen, pointing out the major gods and goddesses in turn, much to Kore’s relief. She isn’t entirely sure she knows who everyone is.

“Dionysus is getting drunk, look. The buffoon is sitting in the wine fountain and over there, Athena is reading. She’s not much of a party girl. More into strategy and intellect. Aunt Hestia is tending the fire, but I wouldn’t go talk to her. She’s not one for conversation. Prefers to keep to herself. That woman on Zeus’ arm with the peacock cape is Queen Hera, of course, and it looks like Poseidon is telling bawdy stories again. You know me, of course, and your mother. All the Olympians are here. And almost all of the children of Kronus. The only one missing is—”

A ripple passes through the hall, cutting Hermes’ sentence short. Kore can feel it in her bones. The shift of attention from the light party atmosphere to something darker, wary. The gods of Olympus are nervous. Conversations cease, the music stops sharply, and every single immortal is frozen where they stand. From her place near the pillar, Kore can’t see what’s going on.

“Brother!” Zeus’ booming voice shatters the silence as though it is made of glass. “So good to see you. I’m glad you’ve finally decided to show your face.”

She cranes her neck and catches the briefest glimpse of the man—lush black robes edged with silver and gold. He looks regal. Kingly. Zeus had called him _brother._ Poseidon was already in attendance, which means there is only one person it can be. Hades. 

And then the drachma drops.

Hades. Lord of the Underworld, Giver of Wealth and the overseer of the dark pit Tartarus, where the titans still scream and howl for revenge against their godly children. A shiver runs up Kore’s spine. He is not a man to be crossed.

Then she hears his voice, and her heart stops.

“You invited me, Zeus. Well, here I am.” Hades steps further into the room and the crowd scatters, searching for sanctuary behind statues and pillars as the death-god strides calmly forward. It is only then that Kore sees him—really sees him—and it pulls a soft cry from her lips unheard by everyone but Hermes besides her.

It’s _Ben._ Standing in the center of the hall with his head held proud. His black hair is combed smooth and held in place by a heavy crown of dark metal, embedded with beads of blackest obsidian. His robes, though black, shimmer and shine as if spun from diamond. The silver and gold embroidery at his wrists and throat weren’t embroidery at all, she realises. It’s silver and gold literally sewn into the fabric. 

Her heart is in her throat. The man who caught her, the man she gave daisies to, the man whose cheek she had kissed before running away—was Hades.

Her mother is going to kill her.

“I know you’re not one for parties, brother, but even you have to leave the Underworld sometime or another. It’s not healthy to stay underground for so long.”

But Kore knows that he _has_ left the Underworld recently. He must have snuck up to the surface just minutes before she ran into him.

“I was fine where I was,” Hades mumbles. Zeus ignores him.

“Well, you’re here now! Come, Hades. Have a drink, take a seat, join the dance! No need to be so ornery.”

Hades looks as if he’s going to retort with bite but then his eyes look past his brother, past the cowering crowd of immortals—

—and lands on Kore.

She can see the moment the realization hits him. His lips part in surprise as he sees her standing there, knuckles white where she grips her glass. Recognition flits across his face, followed swiftly by something soft, gentle. Kore can sense Hermes beside her, eyes glancing between them like he’s trying to solve a riddle. But she doesn’t look at him. How can she? She and Hades stare at each other, saying nothing.

Then, to her surprise, Hades nods to himself and takes a step in her direction.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for the ending of this chapter ^^'
> 
> You can see my inspiration for Kore's dress [here.](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/776167317018050058/)
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> I made a playlist for AWANA which you can listen to [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=X0olbXwNTJi1iGZ4rAT0dg)
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me sane! I appreciate your feedback and screams <3


	6. Suddenly I'm holding the world in my arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s no point dancing when you’re here, Hades. You wouldn’t know a good time if it threw itself in your arms.”
> 
> That gives Hades an idea. It’s a horrible idea, to be sure, but most of his ideas are. He straightens, wrestling his features back into their immoveable mask of calm.
> 
> “If you’ll excuse me.” He leaves Poseidon and Zeus gaping after him as he turns on his heel and stalks across the room. He comes to a stop in front of the beautiful girl from his dreams. Hermes is at her side, and he is looking at Hades as if he had sprouted two more heads. Hades ignores the offended messenger instead fixing his gaze on her.
> 
> Rey looks up at him, hazel eyes blown wide in surprise. Hades takes a deep, steadying breath. _I can do this,_ he tells himself. He holds his hand out to her. She stares at it, then up at him.
> 
> “My lady. May I have this dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally part 2 of the ball at Olympus! All of you are absolute angels for waiting for this chapter. I hope you enjoy our favorite star-crossed idiots navigating the politics of Olympus... and the dance floor.

Hades is staring. Rey’s here. She’s _really here_. The girl from the forest, the one who pulled him into a tree to hide, who gave him flowers, and dances through his dreams like a summer breeze. She looks absolutely stunning. Her floor length gown is white and flowing with beautiful embroidered flowers straining up towards her face. Her arms are bare, gold dusted on her skin. She rivals Aphrodite. Her hair is pinned up with golden daisies. A part of him wonders if she chose them in case she saw him at this party. But even though she’s been dressed up in fancy attire, she’s not wearing shoes. A thrill runs through Hades as he realizes the wildness in her that he yearns for is still there.

_Are you disappointed?_ He wonders, _by who I really am?_ He can’t linger on that thought for too long because she’s here and she’s looking at him and she looks like—

—like a goddess. Which, of course, she is. He feels stupid for ever thinking that this beautiful creature was a nymph. She was too lovely, too mysterious, too perfect for that. A goddess. Hades wonders what her name is. He knows them all; though, he doesn’t know their faces. The dead talk to anyone who will listen, and Hades is usually the only one in the Underworld not cruel enough to snarl and send them away. He holds all of their whispered stories, but he knows nothing of the world above.

The partygoers are slowly creeping out from their hiding places. Well, at least no one screamed this time. That’s a distinct improvement on the last gala Zeus forced him to attend. They all stare at him with bald distaste. Hades ignores it. He’s used to being seen as a monster. There is nothing these people can do that would hurt him more than he already is.

Musicians apprehensively strike up in the corner, and the ebb and flow of the music relaxes the attendees back into the rhythm of an Olympian party. 

Poseidon claps him on the shoulder and he flinches. 

“Good to see you, Hades even if you look like a grouper.” Hades shoots him a look.

“I do not look like a grouper.” Poseidon’s grin is sharklike, and Hades hates it immediately.

“Yes, you do. You always look like the glummest fish in the chum bucket.” Hades has no idea what any of that means, but he knows it isn’t good. He shrugs his brother’s hand off of his shoulder.

“Whatever. I’m here to—dance, or something.”

Nice. Very eloquent. He wants to bury his face in his hands and scream—his usual reaction when it comes to his family.

Poseidon laughs. “There’s no point dancing when you’re here, Hades. You wouldn’t know a good time if it threw itself in your arms.”

That gives Hades an idea. It’s a horrible idea, to be sure, but most of his ideas are. He straightens, wrestling his features back into their immoveable mask of calm.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He leaves Poseidon and Zeus gaping after him as he turns on his heel and stalks across the room. He comes to a stop in front of the beautiful girl from his dreams. Hermes is at her side, and he is looking at Hades as if he had sprouted two more heads. Hades ignores the offended messenger instead fixing his gaze on her.

Rey looks up at him, hazel eyes blown wide in surprise. Hades takes a deep, steadying breath. _I can do this,_ he tells himself. He holds his hand out to her. She stares at it, then up at him.

“My lady. May I have this dance?” The titters ripple through the crowd like a stone in a pond. Rey sucks in a slight breath, and it’s ragged and something inside of Hades twists at the sound of it. He fully expects her rejection. Why would someone like her want anything to do with someone like him? Then her delicate hand is slipping into his just like it did that day. She hands her glass to a shocked Hermes, who’s too startled to do anything but accept it.

“It would be my honor, Lord Hades.” Hearing his true name on her lips is more spectacular than sunrise. It sets his very soul ablaze. 

He leads her into the center of the dance floor, ignoring the gawking spectators. To him, there is only Rey. He lifts their joined hands, sliding his other hand down to hold her waist—she’s so _small_ compared to him. The musicians are playing a sweet, gentle tune, and they begin to move gracefully across the dance floor.

Unbeknownst to literally everyone else, Hades does in fact know how to dance. He learned back when he was young and optimistic about the world. He just never did it in front of other people because he was waiting for the right partner. At last, it seems, he has found her. The world feels balanced again with her in his arms. Hades stares down at her, basking in her like she truly was the sun.

“Hello again,” he murmurs so only she can hear.

“Hello,” she whispers back in her silvery voice that sends shivers down his spine. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

“Would you still have talked with me if you knew who I am?” he asks as they spin around the hall. Other dancers have joined them, now, and they are carried along by the music and the sea of bodies surrounding them.

“I would have,” she replies confidently. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You _didn’t hurt me._ You helped me.”

“True,” Hades concedes. “But I’m the god of the Underworld. I’m not exactly a desirable dance partner.”

“I don’t know. You seem like a pretty good partner to me.” Her chin tilts defiantly, and Hades melts a little. She has thorns, but her words light a fire in his face. Not for the first time he is grateful that his hair covers his ears, which feel like they’re burning.

“Besides, it’s not exactly like you were forthcoming, either. You didn’t even give me a name.” She blushes prettily.

“I was in a rush.”

“I remember.” He didn’t intend for it to come out so low and breathy, but Rey stares at him and he knows she noticed. _Oh Styx._

“Most people call me Kore.” Her lips twist at the name, and Hades can’t blame her. He’d be pretty pissed if his nickname was _the maiden_ too. That knowledge leads down a dangerous path. It’s all he can do to force his mind away from the thought of why, exactly, she is deserving of that particular epithet.

“That’s not your true name, though. You can tell me,” he urges quietly. He is desperate for any scrap she can give him. She looks down at their feet for a long moment before her eyes meet his.

“My name is Persephone.”

_Persephone._ A beautiful name. _Bringer of destruction._ How appropriate that she has destroyed Hades’ life with a smile and a dance. Hades has heard her name before, of course. Hermes is a horrid gossip, and the death god’s only connection to the outside world. She’s a nature goddess—of course she is—and the daughter of Demeter. He hopes that her mother won’t tan his hide for being so bold as to ask for a dance. He’ll never admit it, but Demeter frightens him.

“Persephone,” he whispers. She shivers in his embrace and awakens something predatory in him. A beast he cannot feed. “And here I’ve been calling you Rey.” She blinks, surprised.

“Why Rey?”

“Because whenever I think of you, you’re like a ray of sunshine.” Her blush deepens, contrasted against the pretty smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Hades can’t imagine a lovelier sight if he tries.

“You think of me?” she blurts out. His breath catches in his chest. This is where he should laugh it off and pretend she isn’t the only thing he’s been thinking about for the past month.

“Constantly,” he admits.

“I think of you too.” He stares at her.

“You do?” Persephone nods, eyes escaping his to look at his collar, his cloak, his hand enveloping hers. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. She tilts her head.

“For what?”

“Dragging you into this. My brothers love to tease me about being a bachelor and ruffle my feathers. I didn’t expect to see you here and I needed to shut them up, so I asked you to dance to kill two birds with one stone.” Her eyes widen a fraction at the word _bachelor_ and Hades wants desperately to sink back to the Underworld in shame. _Stupid,_ he scolds himself. _You’ve made a right mess of this, Hades._

“Oh,” she says quietly. Her steps grow more confident as they dance, and soon, she’s dancing with him rather than letting herself be led. Hades is in awe of the grace she carries. She’s strong, too—he knows this from personal experience—and is so unlike the dainty goddesses that his brothers favor for wives that Hades cannot help but revel in her company.

Her next words are so quiet he barely hears them.

“Why are you?”

“Why am I what?” He’s utterly lost.

“A bachelor.” His stomach drops. Hades flounders for a long moment, struggling to find the words.

“Zeus married Hera the minute the war was over. He’s got a wandering eye—everyone knows that—but he needed the strongest and most authoritative goddess to be his queen and consort.” Hades pities Hera. It isn’t her fault her husband is an idiot who thinks with his— _ahem._

He continues. “Poseidon married Amphitrite to solidify his rule over the sea. She’s a nereid; a daughter of Nereus and Doris, granddaughter of Oceanus. Marrying her means that he is considered by the old immortals and the new ones to be the king of the seas. I don’t want to marry for political power. The Underworld—it isn’t like it is up here. It’s dark and frightening, but above all else it is a lonely place to be. I could never force someone to live there the way I have been. I want it to be my wife’s choice. I don’t think I’d forgive myself if it wasn’t.”

He falls silent. It’s the truth—more of it than he’s ever told another living soul. Something about Persephone makes him lose hold of himself. In front of her, he opens like a flower and exposes all of his secrets and fears. How odd, that after all this time there is only one person who truly sees him as he is, and not as he pretends to be.

Persephone is looking at him strangely. It’s piercing, her gaze, and the tangle of emotions behind her eyes is something Hades cannot understand, but his heart twinges nonetheless.

“What?” he asks her weakly.

“I was just thinking,” she murmurs thoughtfully. “You aren’t the monster everyone else makes you out to be. You’re good.” The word hits Hades like a blow. No one has ever called him good before. Not his mother, not his siblings, certainly not his father. He wants her to say it again, to hear her tell him how she can see any good in him but the song ends and the moment blossoming between them withers as the last notes fade on the air.

Though the dance was a gentle one, both of them are breathless. Hades feels as though he’s been standing in the Fields of Punishment, the hot flames scorching his skin. No one else seems to feel the heat. Persephone’s cheeks are flushed, but that couldn’t possibly be because of him, could it? They stand there—unmoving—staring at each other as if daring the other to make a move. 

Then Apollo appears behind Persephone, as incandescent and flashy as ever. He offers Persephone his hand and shoots Hades a dirty look.

“My lady, may I cut in?”

“You may,” she tells the sun god, but she doesn’t break Hades’ gaze. He nods curtly, features already settling back into his mask.

“Thank you, my lady.” Persephone opens her mouth to say—he isn’t sure what, exactly—but Apollo is already sweeping her away into the heart of the dance floor. Hades steps back into the shadows, watching the pair swirl around the room and a spritely dance. She’s stunning, even in the arms of the sun god she outshines him.

He says nothing, merely sips at a glass of ambrosia and watches Persephone smile and laugh as she spins like the brightest star in the constellation of immortals. And when she catches sight of him and that radiant smile is turned on him—

Hades staggers and he realizes just how truly fucked he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says romance quite like heated conversations in the middle of a dance floor, am I right?
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> I made a playlist for AWANA which you can listen to [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=frKbwEh-T2GxjbkZQT25Jw)
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me sane! I appreciate your feedback and your screams in equal measure <3


	7. Close my eyes and disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if he can read her thoughts, a dark head pops up from the long grass. He sees her, leaping to his feet like a fawn and practically bounding over to her. Kore shakes her head with a smile. It’s going to be one of _those_ dreams, isn’t it? She keeps walking towards him, trying (and failing) to keep her grin hidden. He meets her halfway.
> 
> “Persephone, you made it.” She tilts her head quizzically, trying to ignore the joy it gives her to hear him use her true name.
> 
> “Of course I made it. This is my dream, isn’t it?” 
> 
> Hades rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Not exactly.” 
> 
> How can a Force dyad exist in Greek mythology? Why, in dreams of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The party on Olympus was fun and sweet. This chapter is more delightful fluff between Hades and Persephone! I hope you enjoy ^^

She wakes up in a field. It’s beautiful, full of soft grass and wildflowers blooming like a carpet of color underneath her feet. The air carries the sweet scent of pomegranates, and the sky is bright and clear. Beautiful blue butterflies flit from blossom to blossom, sucking up their sweet nectar in an elegant whirlwind of wings. It takes all of Kore’s control not to take off running.

This place is idyllic but not in the same way her mother’s land is. Demeter’s fields are beautiful but take work to maintain. The fruits of the harvest are borne through intense labor. Here, she feels at peace. There is no work to be done. No grain that needs reaping, no weeds to pull, and no nymphs trailing in her wake. Just Kore and the wide world.

Only, this isn’t the world. It’s too serene here, too perfect. _I must be dreaming,_ Kore thinks to herself. _I’ve never had a dream like this before._ She’s more than a little confused—her dreams are usually about adventures in the world Beyond or more recently of Hades.

As if he can read her thoughts, a dark head pops up from the long grass. He sees her, leaping to his feet like a fawn and practically bounding over to her. Kore shakes her head with a smile. It’s going to be one of _those_ dreams, isn’t it? She keeps walking towards him, trying (and failing) to keep her grin hidden. He meets her halfway.

“Persephone, you made it.” She tilts her head quizzically, trying to ignore the joy it gives her to hear him use her true name.

“Of course I made it. This is my dream, isn’t it?” 

Hades rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Not exactly.” 

She steps back a fraction, hands on her hips in an imitation of her mother’s stern posture.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “It’s just—I didn’t know how else to see you again. I’m not allowed out of the Underworld very often and your mother kind of hates me, so she’d never let you visit me. But I haven’t seen you since the party, so I might’ve bribed Hypnos to join our dreams, so I can see you again.” He’s blushing—ears and cheeks flushed red as cherries.

“The party was a fortnight ago,” Kore points out. “You’ve been trying to figure out a way to meet me this whole time?” He nods, shoulders drooping slightly in defeat. She has to admit that she likes seeing him like this. She isn’t quite sure, but there’s a chance she’s the only person who has ever seen Hades lower his guard. The thought warms her to the core; though, she doesn’t show it.

“I should’ve asked—I know I should have—but I never got the chance to talk to you after our dance and I didn’t really want to leave things there—” he trails off, looking up at her so hopefully that it shatters Kore’s self control. She steps forward and slips her hand into his, squeezing slightly to reassure him. Hades looks down at their joined hands—squeezes back—and looks back at Kore’s face. “You’re not upset?”

“Of course I’m not upset. I wanted to see you, too.” The look on his face is nothing short of glorious. His lips part in surprise, the cloud that almost always hangs over his eyes lifts, and it’s as though the sun has broken through to shine directly on Kore.

“Oh,” Hades says softly, his smile as gentle as birdsong. “Well, that’s alright then.”

“Where are we?” she asks him, craning her neck for any familiar landmarks.

“A field,” he supplies helpfully. “I know you want to get out and see the world, so I thought I might bring a little of the world to you. This place is on an island to the south on the slopes of a mountain.” Sure enough, Kore turns to find a mountain towering over the landscape.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. Hades nods.

“The soil is rich and fertile here. It makes everything grow twice as beautiful as it would anywhere else. I came here right after the war. Never did make it back, but I thought you might like it here.”

Kore is touched that Hades has put so much thought into this dream. She looks up at him and finds her eyes are a little misty.

“Thank you, Hades.” He nods to her. They stand there like that for a while—holding hands while Kore holds back tears—before Hades steps back and gently tugs her hand.

“Come with me, I have something to show you.” She lets him lead her down the verdant slope. He’s like a puppy—so excitable and enthusiastic that she cannot help but warm to him. How is this man the same one as the monster from the myths? Kore doesn’t know for sure, but she’s starting to think that maybe, just maybe, the myths have gotten it wrong. 

He skids to a halt in front of the most stunning view Kore has seen in her whole life. The meadow ends at a cliff, looking out over Poseidon’s ocean as it stretches beyond the horizon. Kore has only seen the sea once before: the night that Zephyrus brought her and her mother to Olympus. Seeing it from here is even more spectacular. Gulls soar on the winds, their feathers rustling in the updraft.

Just before the cliff’s edge, a blanket has been spread on the ground. There is food and drink beyond compare her favorite honey cakes and sweet dandelion wine next to heaping platters of fruit and bread.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Hades is saying to her. “I never got a chance to thank you.”

“Thank me? I seem to recall you being the one who helped me.” But even as she speaks, she is sinking to her knees and reaching for the sweet sticky cake. Hades sits next to her, extending his long legs in front of him. Gods, they go on for _miles._ Kore isn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, but Hades is practically a giant next to her.

“Well, you didn’t tell anyone that you met me, you gave me a gift—something that no one else has ever done for me—and you danced with me in front of all of Olympus so I could shut my brothers up,” he lists on his fingers. Kore shrugs, already reaching for another cake.

“I suppose. But I didn’t say yes so you could escape your brothers.”

“Oh?” Hades unstops the wine and pours her some. She accepts the glass with slightly sticky fingers. “Then why did you?”

Kore can feel her cheeks flush. She always seems to be blushing around him. It’s strange. “Because I was glad to see you again. I wanted to get to know you better.” 

“We hardly know each other, don’t we?” He laughs. It’s a magical thing. Like rolling stones and summer storms and everything Kore’s life is lacking. “I suppose there’s only one way to change that.”

“How’s that?” He plucks a grape off of its stem and pops it into his mouth.

“Ask each other about ourselves. You can go first, if you’d like.”

Her mind is a maelstrom. There are so many questions, so many paradoxes about this man in front of her she hardly knows where to start.

“What’s your favorite color?” she blurts out. He blinks at her, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Blue,” he replies. “It’s a calming thing. Nothing in the Underworld is blue, except for sapphires, I suppose, but it’d look a bit ridiculous for me to carry around a handful of gems wherever I go. What about you?”

“Green,” Kore answers easily. “I love how beautiful and bright the plants look after it rains. The green is so bright and _alive._ What do you do in your spare time?”

“I write.” That piques her curiosity. Hades is purposefully not looking at her, so she scoots forwards on her knees until they’re brushing his thigh and grins mischievously. He spares her a glance and she sees that he’s blushing.

“What do you write?” He shrugs.

“Anything, really. I find calligraphy soothing. I’ll write down stories Hermes tells me when he visits, poetry from the human souls that reside in my realm. Lists of things I have to do. That sort of thing.”

Huh. Who would’ve guessed that the fearsome Lord Hades writes poetry in his spare time. Kore expects him to turn the question back on her, so she is entirely unprepared for what comes out of his mouth instead.

“Why daisies?”

“I dunno, I’ve always liked them. They’re surprisingly robust for looking like such delicate things.” Hades nods sagely.

“That they are. You had daisies braided into your hair the day we met.” 

“I did.” Hades turns to the side and produces a bouquet of the flowers. Kore looks at the flowers, then at Hades with obvious confusion.

“I was thinking I could braid these into your hair. If that’s okay, of course.”

_Oh._ Why is Kore’s chest so tight all of a sudden? She nods her consent and turns her back on Hades. She grips her skirt in tight fists to hide the tremor that runs through her. 

She jumps at his touch, but Hades is so painfully gentle it breaks her heart. His fingers card through her hair and she sighs with delight at the sensation. His fingers stop for a brief moment before they continue. He gathers up locks and gingerly begins to plait them. 

“It’s your turn, Persephone,” he urges. She’s so relaxed by his touch that it takes her a moment to remember what he’s talking about.

Right. The game. It’s hard to think when Hades’ hands are tangled in her hair and are moving ever so gently against her scalp, but Kore manages.

“Is it true that you destroyed an entire village because a soul escaped the Underworld?” She can feel his sigh in her hair.

“It isn’t. I think Poseidon started that rumor. Hermes had stolen one of Apollo’s cows—again—and they got loose and he needed help tracking them down. I found the last of them in a village bucking and destroying everything in sight. I put on my Cap of Invisibility to sneak up on it and get a rope around its neck. Thank the stars no one was actually hurt in the incident, but they did find me in a razed town so my brother made an assumption and I never bothered to correct him.”

Kore frowns. Why in the world would Poseidon spread rumors about his own brother like that? The more she learns about the Olympians, the less she likes them. In any case, it’s Hades’ turn to ask her a question.

“Do you fancy anyone?” Her face goes scarlet, and she whirls around to face him. His head is tilted slightly, and she wishes she weren’t so flustered by his question.

“I—I don’t see how that’s relevant,” she splutters. Her heart is thundering—surely he can hear it? Surely he knows what a question like that is doing to her? Hades is looking at her expectantly and she doesn’t really know what to do and the word slips out before she can stop it. “You.”

Hades freezes. Kore desperately wishes the ground would open up beneath her and swallow her whole. It doesn’t, of course, so she’s still looking at Hades with the horror of her own words written across her face.

What should she do? Common sense says to run away, but she’s already done that to him and she regrets it more than anything. Her eyes fall to his lips. There is another option. One that she’s wanted since their dance on Olympus. She leans in, holding her breath as she waits for Hades to move away. He doesn’t. She reaches up gingerly to brush a lock of hair out of his face and he shivers—actually _shivers_ —under her touch.

“I—I’m not—sure about this,” he splutters, eyes blown wide. Kore shushes him gently.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I fancy _you,_ Hades.” His blush deepens, and Kore can feel the heat in her own face. His breath ghosts across her lips as he gasps lightly. Kore’s fingers slip from his hair, tracing a path down his temple before coming to a stop on his cheeks. Holding his face in her hands, she is struck by how beautiful he is. She’d noticed it when she first met him, but their faces are so close she can see the depths of his dark eyes and the longing that he hides so well is apparent now.

Her hands are shaking, but Hades doesn’t seem to mind. He’s staring at Kore with such bald adoration it takes her breath away. She tilts her head towards his, closing the distance between them slowly. One of his hands slides up her back to cradle her neck and she shudders at his touch. His hands are huge. She can’t help but wonder if he’s as big everywhere else.

Hades’ eyes close and Kore can feel his breath catch as her lips brush his. In just a few moments, she will be kissing him. Her heart leaps into her throat in anticipation.

She moves to seal his lips with her own, but something grabs hold of her shoulder. Her eyes fly open as she is wrenched from Hades’ arms and pulled backwards from her dream. It’s as though she’s had a bucket of cold water dumped over her.

Kore lurches from her dream with a gasp, hands reaching out for Hades even as she is dragged forcefully into waking.

At the foot of her bed, Demeter is standing with her arms crossed and a tapping foot, her brow creased with disapproval. Kore’s heart sinks as she realizes what has happened. Her mother has woken her up from her dream. She’s been taken away from Hades, and Demeter looks _pissed._

“Kore,” her mother says cooly. “We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word to the wise: _never_ piss off a nature goddess. It won't end well.
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> I made a playlist for AWANA which you can listen to [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=4nBGw0EkTYWGqNmS8Tzxug)
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me sane! I appreciate your feedback and your screams in equal measure <3


	8. Just how far would you go for her?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then he feels it—a ripple in the dream world. It chills him like Boreas’ icy breath, the shudder running up his spine as the cold bites at his flesh. Something is wrong. Hades’ eyes fly open to see Persephone’s reflect his shock and confusion before the fear overtakes her face. An unseen force is dragging her away from him. Persephone’s limbs shoot out, clambering for purchase. There is none. Whatever has her, its will is iron.
> 
> Hades reaches for her, hoping to stop her. To save her. He can see the terror in her eyes, knows its mirrored in his own expression, but he can’t reach her in time. Their fingertips brush and Persephone screams something, he isn’t sure what, and then she’s gone. He’s alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, the response I've received in the past week is astonishing to me! I started this as a fun project to see if I could take two things I love, Star Wars and Greek mythology, and combine them. I never expected it to reach so many people, or for it to be as well received as it has been! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this. We're nearly at the midpoint of the story now, and I can confidently say the next few chapters will be a roller coaster of emotions. So buckle up, friends! And enjoy the ride. ^^

For one glorious moment, Hades feels the brush of Persephone’s lips against his own. Soft and warm and hesitant, somehow surpassing all of his dreams. His heart sings in euphoria as she sighs into him. He smiles against her lips because finally— _finally_ —he is kissing Persephone, and it’s just as amazing as he dreamed it would be.

Then he feels it—a ripple in the dream world. It chills him like Boreas’ icy breath, the shudder running up his spine as the cold bites at his flesh. Something is wrong. Hades’ eyes fly open to see Persephone’s reflect his shock and confusion before the fear overtakes her face. An unseen force is dragging her away from him. Persephone’s limbs shoot out, clambering for purchase. There is none. Whatever has her, its will is iron.

Hades reaches for her, hoping to stop her. To save her. He can see the terror in her eyes, knows its mirrored in his own expression, but he can’t reach her in time. Their fingertips brush and Persephone screams something, he isn’t sure what, and then she’s gone. He’s alone. 

Hades’ heart is pounding in his chest, his exhilaration hardening into something dark and tempered like a blade. The field is no longer warm and serene around him. The grass withers into ash, a harsh wind whipping it away over the sea. The blue butterflies that had been flitting lazily around them fall one by one to the cold ground below. Hades trembles. The world around him dies while his rage and blind terror swell like a tidal wave. He tilts his face to the sky and screams.

“Persephone!” Hades lunges up out of sleep, flailing against the cords that are binding him in place. It takes a dizzying moment for him to realize that he’s not in the field anymore. The cords that bind him aren’t cords at all; they're familiar black silken sheets. It dawns on him slowly where he is. He’s in his bed. In his palace. Back in the Underworld. Awake. 

The realization is like a knife between his ribs, stealing his breath and his hope at once. He falls back to the sheets, a pitiful noise rising from his throat as he throws an arm over his eyes. It’s a mistake.

With his eyes pressed shut, all he can see is Persephone. He replays the final moments of their shared dream. The fear in her eyes chills him to his core. He never knew someone so strong and brave as Persephone could look so terrified, and that in turn terrifies him. Her lips had been moving to form a word. What was it? ‘Help?’ ‘Hades?’ He has no idea, and it burns at him that he doesn’t know what happened or where she is.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He knows where she isn’t—here with him—and Demeter is too much of a curmudgeon to return to Olympus with her daughter. The gods' hands wander as much as their eyes, and she is fiercely protective of her daughter. That means that Persephone has to be there. On Earth.

Somewhere far above Persephone is alone and afraid— _and he isn’t there to help her._

A hand seizes around his heart and Hades tears himself free from the black silk sheets of his bed, barely cognizant of the harsh ripping sound as the fabric cleaves in two. He swings his legs off of the side and buries his head in his hands, groaning. He is drowning in worry and hopelessness. It is in these moments that the voices of his youth return, twisting his thoughts and beliefs with pain and subtle manipulation.

There was so much he wanted to say to her. The voice deep inside his head—insidious and cruel—whispers that she’ll only hurt him. _Trust me, Hades,_ it seems to say. _You can’t trust anyone. All people do is hurt you._

_Not Persephone,_ Hades thinks back miserably. Ever since he met her she has been nothing but kind. She gave him flowers, a dance, a picnic. 

_Cruel. A cruel girl who tempts you only to break your heart. You know that I am the only one you can trust. The only one who truly loves you._

“No,” Hades growls. She had been about to kiss him, he was sure of it. He wanted her to. Stars he wanted her to. He wants to know what it’s like to be loved by someone as amazing and beautiful and brave as Persephone.

Love—it’s something Hades has never dared to dream of for himself. He resigned himself long ago to a life of solitude. No one could love a monster. It was fine—not ideal, certainly but Hades knew he could handle a lifetime alone in his kingdom.

Now, though, he yearns for it. For her. Persephone is everything in his wildest dreams and more. He has never met anyone like her. No one has her strength, her resolve, her heart. Hades chokes back a sob, tears streaming down his cheeks and pooling at his feet. 

She is the one person who hasn’t treated him like a monster. Everyone else walks on eggshells around him, expecting an explosive fit of rage. They are painfully gentle. She treats him gently, too, but she does it because she cares. No one has cared about him like that before. No one has been angry with how his family brushes him aside, or how he’s trapped in a hellscape with no company and no friends. No one has dared to take his hand without a shudder of disgust. Not until her.

He pushes up from his bed, suddenly needing to move. To _think._

His bare feet pad over the cold marble floors as he paces frantically from one end of his chambers to the other. To anyone watching, he must look mad. He’s beyond caring. Let the world see him. None of them matter right now. The only person he cares about is Persephone. 

_Where is she?_ Logically, she’s back at home in Demeter’s fields. Forbidden ground, for the likes of him. He knows Demeter detests him nearly as much as he’s afraid of her—the Lady of the Golden Blade is not a woman to cross. His helm is no match for a woman to whom the very grass owes allegiance, and despite his fearsome reputation Hades knows that in a fight, Demeter could destroy him in a heartbeat.

So he can’t get to Persephone. He is just as trapped as she is. Swearing, Hades snatches up the nearest object—a jewel encrusted chalice—and hurls it at the wall where it shatters into a thousand pieces, raining precious stones on the chamber floor. Hades sinks to his knees, a painful scream rising from his throat.

The only time in his life he felt this defenseless was when he had been swallowed by Kronus. He had been an infant then, though, and now he was grown. Hades doesn’t know how to feel so trapped. It’s as though he has been bound in cords and dropped in Tartarus. There is no option, no escape, no way to get back to her.

She needs him—he knows this unequivocally. But he needs her more. Needs her smile, her laugh, her touch, the looks she gives him when she thinks he can’t see. She is the only person who doesn’t judge him for his past, doesn’t call him a monster for the things he’s had to do. Persephone has never once recoiled from him.

Not even his own mother could say the same. 

Back on his feet and frantically moving, Hades is burning. He has to leave—has to _find her._ He will raze Olympus, tearing it apart pillar by pillar and stone by stone until he finds her. He will throw Apollo from his golden chariot, will set the seas on fire and break open the sky until Persephone is safe again. He will even fight the Earth herself—Gaia helpless in the face of his rage. No one will ever hurt her, not if he has anything to say about it.

A thought pierces his fear-addled brain. It grounds him to a halt in the middle of his chambers. _Oh._ He’s in love with Persephone.

At any other time, the revelation would be something beautiful—a hopeful thought that whispers of a happy future spent with her in his arms and his hands tangled in her hair—but now it is a knife sliding between his ribs and twisting until he cries out in pain and collapses to his knees. He can see his own reflection in the polished floor,tears dripping from his nose and splattering on the floor. His sobs echo through the empty room.

There’s nothing he can do— Well, that’s not quite true. He can go find Hypnos and rouse the drowsy dream god. Demand an answer for what happened. He _could_ go do that, but there’s no point, Hades knows the answer. Someone pulled her from their dream. Someone woke her up, and she was _afraid._

Hades feels useless.

He always has, if he’s being honest with himself. Ever since he and his brothers divvied up the realms. Zeus had claimed the sky because, in his own eyes, he was the sole reason the gods had been able to overthrow the titans. That left Hades and Poseidon to draw lots to see which of them won the sea and which of them won the Underworld, or more accurately, the realm no one wanted. Of course, Hades drew the Underworld. Zeus and Poseidon are beloved and worshipped by the mortals. They bring rain and fish and profit to the humans.

And what does Hades do? What needs to be done. He stations guards at the edges of Tartarus, guarding the titans’ prison. He gathers the dead, organizing them into Elysium, Asphodel and the Mourning Fields to prevent overcrowding. Signing papers, overseeing expansion, facing the abuse and complaints of thousands of angry people day in, day out. The mortals who worshiped his brothers feared and hated him for his role. It’s exhausting to be so reviled by man and immortals alike. It’s the reason he rarely surfaces. Why bother going somewhere where everyone hates you? Better to stay down here. At least in the Underworld there is work to be done.

But he would risk the mortals’ jeers and prayers if it meant he could go to her. Persephone—the woman he _loves_ —is up there, somewhere. He can feel her pain and panic as though it is his own, piercing his heart and his lungs like arrows. 

There is only one thing he can do. Wait. Hades is good at waiting. He’s spent nearly his whole life waiting for something to change or for someone to be kind. He can wait a little longer. Crawling back to his bed, he pulls himself into it, rolling onto his back with a sob.

He casts his eyes upwards, sending up a silent cry as he lets sleep overcome him.

_Persephone, where are you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> I made a playlist for AWANA which you can listen to [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=uWbI78i_SkeC1MOc96saAQ)
> 
> And the Hadestown soundtrack is available on [Spotify.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=u0p6indAQcqOaiNmss4uzQ) It's phenomenal music, and if you want more heartbreaking context for my chapter titles please give the show a listen!
> 
> I made a Ko-fi! You can support me [if you want to.](https://ko-fi.com/katerina_raven_song)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos keep me sane. Thank you so much for reading!


	9. Under a gathering storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How _dare_ you!” her mother hisses. Kore flinches from her. Demeter has never once raised her voice at her. Kore doesn’t know what it is that her mother thinks she’s done. An apology is on her lips, but her mother charges forward with her lecture, “After everything that I’ve done for you? Everything I have sacrificed so that you can have a good life, and _this_ is how you repay me?”
> 
> “Mother what are you—” Kore starts.
> 
> “Quiet,” Demeter snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here it is! A chapter full of all of the familial angst we should expect from the Greek gods. I'm in the process of moving, so working on this story has been a glorious escape from the tedium of packing and planning. Don't worry, though! Next week's chapter is set to be uploaded right on schedule.
> 
> The next chapter marks the halfway point of our story, and the moment when the famous myth becomes real for Hades and Persephone. I can't wait for you to find out what happens next!

Kore and Demeter stare each other down. Panic still grips Kore with chilling claws. Her heart thunders in her chest, her lungs ache from the ghost of a scream, and she can feel her body surging, urging her to run. But she’s trapped. Her mother is blocking the door, arms crossed over her chest and eyes sharp as a sickle. The rage rolls off of Demeter in waves, rendering the air as electric as one of Zeus’ storms. 

It makes Kore shiver. She pulls her sheets up, wrapping them around herself as if they can shield her from Demeter’s harsh words.

“How _dare_ you!” her mother hisses. Kore flinches from her. Demeter has never once raised her voice at her. Kore doesn’t know what it is that her mother thinks she’s done. An apology is on her lips, but her mother charges forward with her lecture, “After everything that I’ve done for you? Everything I have sacrificed so that you can have a good life, and _this_ is how you repay me?”

“Mother what are you—” Kore starts.

“Quiet,” Demeter snaps. “Do you think me a fool? I know what you did. What you lied to me about. You snuck away from the nymphs months ago. It didn’t take much to figure out why. You’ve been seeing that _monster._ For such a clever girl, you are so foolish. There is no forest, field, nor grove on this green earth where you could hide. I am the harvest queen, child, and the world tells me everything.”

“Traitors,” Kore whispers. The nymphs’ betrayal stings. She thought they were her friends. That they cared about her and wanted the best for her. Rose’s bright face swims in her mind’s eye. The nymphs love Kore, but they fear Demeter. 

Demeter hears Kore’s whisper, and her golden eyes narrow dangerously.

“No, not traitors. My nymphs are loyal, just not to you. They know their place is by my side. I thought you did too. I was wrong.” Demeter leans closer, her mouth a thin line. “Kore, we have three rules in this house: help with the harvest, stay inside of the forest boundary, and under no circumstances will you speak to a man. Three rules. Three simple rules. I’m not asking for much, and yet somehow you failed to follow even those.”

“But I didn’t leave the forest!” Kore cries, indignant. “I stayed well within the boundaries of your land. I _am_ sorry that I slipped away from the nymphs, I just—I get tired of always having an entourage of nymphs with me wherever I go! I only wanted a little peace and quiet. I always planned on coming back, I swear on the river Styx. You just don’t trust me.”

“Of course I don’t trust you! You snuck away without my permission! My protection is what has kept you safe all your life, and you eschew it for childish rebellion. Zeus only knows what horrors could have happened to you, and then, of course, there was the mess on Olympus.” Kore blanches. 

Oh. That.

A flush rises in her cheeks, and Demeter’s rage flares like the sun when she notices. There is no hiding this now. All of Kore’s secrets are out in the open.

“Why would you embarrass me like that in front of all of the gods? Dancing with him!”

“I wasn’t trying to be embarrassing.”

“Oh? Pray, tell what _exactly_ were you trying to be?” Kore crosses her arms.

“Lord Hades asked me for a dance. It would look bad if I didn’t accept. I thought you would approve, since it was the diplomatic option.”

“With any other god it would have been! But not with _him._ ” Demeter’s knuckles are white, gripping the frame of Kore’s bed. Her mother is strangely breathless, and it hits Kore like a blow below her ribs. Hearing her mother talk about him like that—Kore isn’t exactly sure why, but it hurts her. He’s done nothing wrong. Yet here Demeter is, practically quaking with fury at the mention of his name. There’s something more. Something Kore doesn’t yet understand.

“What do you have against Hades?” she asks quietly. 

“Oh, so it’s just Hades now? Tell me, have you always been so friendly with that demon?” Kore winces, regretting the blunder immediately. If her mother didn’t realize the depths of her feelings for him before, she certainly does now. Demeter shakes her head, fixing her gaze on the gnarled wood beneath her fingers. “Hades is—he’s awful. He ruins everything. He destroys what I create. He’s darkness and cold and death and decay. How can you not see that?” Kore slides out of her bed, cautiously padding over to her mother.

“Maybe he’s not as bad as you think he is,” she murmurs. “He’s the god of the Underworld, but he’s not death itself. Give him a chance, Mother, please. He’s not lost yet. I know there’s light in him.”

Demeter’s laugh is bitter as horehound. Kore has never seen her mother in such a state. She’s usually so calm and collected. But now—now the wreath of barley and wheat that crowns Demeter’s head is askew. Her amber eyes are wide with a frenzy of emotions that forces Kore to scramble back, the blanket winding around her legs as she falls from her bed onto the earthen floor. The goddess is shaking and the small potted daisies on Kore’s windowsill wither into dust. The warm summer light spilling into the room dims. The clouds grow dark, and Zephyrus’ soothing presence is replaced with a fearsome wind Kore never thought she would meet—Boreas’ icy breath chills her to the bone, and she shivers in her light linen nightclothes.

She cowers back until she is stopped by the wall. Outside, Kore watches as their beautiful garden decays into particles of ash and blows away on the fierce wind. She looks at her mother, and for the first time in her life she is truly afraid.

_This is Demeter’s true power,_ she realizes with growing horror. _This is the power that lives in me, too._

“Hades doesn’t have light in him, _daughter,_ ” Demeter snarls. “He is cruel and cold and has been since the moment he took his first breath. He loves nothing but gold and the torment of the damned. I assure you that no matter what you believe he doesn’t care about you. No man does.”

Fire flares to life in Kore’s heart. That rebellious spark gives her strength to push herself to her feet and plant herself squarely in the middle of her bedroom.

“I’m not a child anymore. You can’t keep me here forever, Mother!”

“You don’t understand Kore!” Demeter cries. “I have to protect you. You didn’t see the gods at the party, did you? Of course you didn’t, you’re too young to understand—”

“What do you mean?”

“The way they looked at you. Like you’re a doe to be hunted and then consumed. Apollo, Hermes, Dionysus, even Ares couldn’t keep their eyes off of you the whole night. Lecherous snakes, the lot of them.”

“The gods?” 

“No. Men.” Demeter grabs Kore by the shoulders—none too gently—and searches her face. “You don’t know what they can do, child. To them, love is a game. They only care about winning, and they leave carnage in their wake. Stay safe, little flower. Stay with me and be like Artemis and Athena and Hestia.” She strokes Kore’s hair. “Stay pure.”

Kore jerks out of Demeter’s grasp. Tears stream down her cheeks hot and fast. How could her mother be so blind? Every moment Kore spends here is torture. She cannot stay in this cage any longer. She needs to be free. Stretch her wings and fly far away from this place.

“No.” 

_“No?”_ Demeter’s brows rise in shock.

“I will not be kept here like a bird! There is so much of the world that you won’t let me see. I’m not afraid of the darkness like you are.” The winds die down. The two women stand across from each other—Demeter’s eyes pleading with her daughter—Kore’s eyes flashing her defiance. “You’re wrong about Hades. You’re wrong about me. I won’t stay here.”

“Kore—” Demeter begs, her hands outstretched. Reaching to keep her daughter here with her. She steps back, and her even gaze fixes on her mother’s pleading face.

“My name is Persephone.”

Time seems to stand still. There is something about saying it aloud that lends her the strength she needs. No longer will she answer to her mother’s rule. No longer will she be the perfect young maiden everyone expects her to be. She will destroy everything in her path if it means that she will be free.

Demeter’s eyes flash with shock, followed swiftly by pain and something like sadness. She droops a little, reaching a hand out toward her daughter in one last plea.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she croons. “I love you. Please, stay with your mother. This is your destiny. You are meant to be by my side forever.”

“I make my own destiny.”

Demeter raises herself to her full height, as proud and unyielding as an ash tree. “So be it. Remember, Persephone. You did this to yourself.”

The cottage shudders. It’s all Persephone can do to keep her footing. Vines burst through the window, weaving into a lattice of thorns as they slither across the walls and to the door. They shoot up from the ground, blocking the exit as Persephone realizes with sinking horror what her mother has done.

“You can’t do this!” she screams, whirling on Demeter.

The amber eyed goddess regards her, emotionless. “It appears I can. There is no escaping this, my daughter. I will not let you leave me.” Demeter’s form sharpens into light, forcing Persephone to look away or else be blinded by the golden flash. When the light dims and she looks back, her mother is gone. Slipping out of her own trap with the grace of an Olympian. 

Persephone crumples to the floor, clutching at her chest as her lungs seize and her breath stutters. _This can’t be happening. She wouldn’t do this to me._ It’s a lie. She knows that Demeter’s resolve is ironclad. She is trapped.

Hot tears soak into the earth beneath her hands. Wrenching sobs shake her body as she curls in the dirt.

“What do I do?” she whispers to herself. There is no easy way to escape her mother; she knows this. How is it she expected to escape when there is nowhere on Earth that is safe?

Except her dreams.

Persephone scans her room until she finds it: one last bottle of strong summerwine. She has been saving it for a special occasion, but now it is her only hope. Breaking the seal, Persephone lifts the bottle to her lips—

—and drinks.

It’s sweet against her tongue—almost syrupy with the rich flavor—and it takes all her control not to choke on its sweetness. She is not so easily beaten. Undeterred, Persephone tilts the bottle and prays to Hypnos that this will work. She doesn’t stop until it is empty, gasping for breath as the alcohol hits her all at once. 

Her head spins. This particular batch had been made with the gods in mind. Nectar is its base—that alluring combination of ambrosia and honey that the Olympians drink by the barrel—and it is heady stuff. Persephone isn’t a lightweight by any stretch of the imagination, but she staggers as she moves towards her bed, falling into it when her knees collide with the wooden frame. She curls in on herself, legs pulled up to her chest as her tears soak the pillow, and waits for sleep to take her.

Persephone’s breathing slows, falling into that easy rhythm of sleep. Fear gnaws at her. Will this even work? All Hades had said was that he had bribed the god of sleep to join their dreams. Was there a chance that the connection between them was still there, or had it been shattered into filaments of dream and nightmare? She doesn’t know the answer, but Persephone has to try.

She can feel the instant reality slips away, and she is falling down, down into the dreamworld. The elation that the bond is holding steady gives way to horror. There is no golden meadow this time. No sparkling ocean. There are only dark clouds and fierce winds tearing at her clothing and biting at her face. Persephone charges forward—he’s there, he _has_ to be there—until a silhouette looms in the dark.

“Hades!” she cries. The figure turns. His face is pale, so pale that the scar looks red and angry in comparison. His eyes wide with relief at the sight of her.

“Persephone!” he reaches for her, fingers brushing fingers as the winds rage to keep them apart.

“Please,” she begs him. Her tears are turned to ice on her cheeks as she weeps. The cold is cruel—all she wants is to feel safe. To feel warm again. “Hades, please help me.”

“Anything,” he calls to her. He is frightened—she can see it written in the lines of his face. Frightened for her. The wind screams in rage, doubling in ferocity. The force of it tears a cry from his lips and a matching one from hers. They don’t have much time.

“Come find me,” she begs even as the wind forces her away from him with brutal strength. “Take me away from here.” She stumbles back, losing sight of him in the storm of the nightmare—his or hers, she doesn’t know. Even though Hades is falling father and farther away, Persephone catches his faint promise on the wind. Even as she is thrown back into her body, Hades’ words follow her and light a faint flame of hope in her heart.

“Wait for me. I’m coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> I made a playlist for AWANA which you can listen to on [Spotify.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=byP0XUoiSlC6j1CAXLfoig)
> 
> The chapter and work titles are inspired by Hadestown, a Broadway musical that follows the love stories of Orpheus and Eurydice and Hades and Persephone. I highly recommend [giving it a listen!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=3Cuk1boRSG6lUM5LCy-ndA)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for comments and kudos! I read them all and they brighten my week ^^


	10. Wait for me, I'm comin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The instant he wakes from the dream, Hades is running. He doesn’t even pause to dress—just summons the shadows to weave robes around him as he tears through his palace at top speed. He’s never run so fast in his life, and still his pace is painfully slow. He’ll never reach Persephone in time like this. Hades knows what he has to do—he only hopes he has the strength. His heart is thudding in his chest like a drum, and he can do little else but answer its call.
> 
> The midway point!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm uploading later in the day than usual! I just moved and spent most of the day out with my roommates getting furniture. Thank you all so much for your kind comments, they've really helped me in the past weeks. I hope you enjoy the midpoint.

The instant he wakes from the dream, Hades is running. He doesn’t even pause to dress—just summons the shadows to weave robes around him as he tears through his palace at top speed. He’s never run so fast in his life, and still his pace is painfully slow. He’ll never reach Persephone in time like this. Hades knows what he has to do—he only hopes he has the strength. His heart is thudding in his chest like a drum, and he can do little else but answer its call.

He nearly bowls Hux and Phasma over in the hall, crashing through them with only a grunt of displeasure at the delay. 

“Hey!” Hux shrieks as he is thrown into the nearest wall. Hades doesn’t reply. There’s no time for this. He has to get to her.

Hades throws the doors to the stables open, startling the majestic black creatures within. Four black stallions rear up, whinnies like screams in their fright. Their crimson eyes flash, but Hades reared these horses from foals. They trust him—and he trusts them. 

He moves between them, soothing each stallion in turn before slipping the harness over their heads. His chariot is black as night and carved with fearsome scenes from the war of the titans. It is meant to inspire fear in the hearts of his enemies, but right now, all Hades needs is something that can bring him to the surface as fast as possible.

With a crack of his whip, the horses surge into motion. The stable doors crash open, sending a crowd of gathered daemons and shades screaming out of the way. Hades pays them no mind. He has bigger concerns. 

The stallions’ hooves pound against the ground in a rollicking rhythm as they cross the Underworld in mere minutes. Hades isn’t sure if the pounding is his heart or his horses, but it doesn’t matter either way. As the ground below their feet begins to incline, Hades feels a sharp pain pierce him. He knows without looking that this pain is not his. It belongs to Persephone. The thought of her in pain steels his resolve. Hades grits his teeth and urges the horses onwards as they gallop towards the sunlight.

_Hold on, sweetheart,_ Hades begs her. _I’m coming._

The sun is blinding—burning him as the chariot explodes from the ground. Hades swears and shields his eyes but doesn’t slow. He hadn’t bothered to take a predetermined path this time—he merely charged upwards and moved the earth out of his way. He was the grandson of Gaia after all. 

The field is as idyllic and golden as the meadow from his dreams. In the distance, he can see something odd. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s a cottage. The entire structure has been enveloped in massive thorny vines, which spiral around the building like the coils of a massive serpent. Around the house in a massive circle is a patch of decaying greenery. Hades knows it instantly—can smell the reek of death even from here—and he shudders at Demeter’s power. There is a reason he is afraid of her. Many forget that the lady of the harvest doesn’t reap only the grain. And they call him the god of death.

A flash of white on the horizon draws his eye. Hades turns to it, a soft gasp falling from his lips as he realizes. A portion of the vines explode outwards, as if cut by a large sword. Something struggles out of the vines, skin tearing on the jagged thorns as they finally pull free. Persephone is running towards him, her skin glistening in the early morning light. The sun catches on her upper arms. Golden ichor stains her skin and Hades shakes with fury; someone has made Persephone bleed. He cannot let this go unpunished. 

Stepping from his chariot, Hades races towards her. Something inside of him twists at the sight of her. He’s never seen her so frenzied. And then she is leaping into his arms with a heart-wrenching cry, her arms wrapping around his neck as his arms come up to encircle her waist. Persephone buries her face in his neck, and Hades feels her tears staining his robes.

“Shhh,” he soothes, dragging his hand up her spine in what he hopes is a calming gesture. Her body is shaking with sobs against him, and it makes him want to cry himself. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

She shudders, racking with sobs. She’s so light. Hades can’t believe that someone with so much fire and presence can be so delicate. Gingerly, he sets her down but doesn’t let go. Her hands are fisted in the fabric of his robes, now wet with her tears.

“Hades,” she breathes, and there’s so much hurt and longing in the way she says his name it breaks his heart. Hades presses a kiss to her hair, rubbing the space between her shoulder blades.

“You’re safe, Persephone. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe as long as I stay here.” She raises her head to look up at him. Her gaze is heavy. He can’t look away. He finds he doesn’t want to.

“What happened?”

“Mother found out.” He stumbles back a step, mind racing. 

“About what?”

“That I hid from the nymphs. That I met you.” _Fuck._ Hades runs a hand through his hair, scrambling for any solution. “I’ve never seen her so angry. She wanted me to stay Kore forever but I can’t—” Persephone’s voice breaks into a sob. Hades cradles her face in his hands.

“You don’t have to be anyone you don’t want to,” he murmurs.

“You don’t understand, Hades,” she presses her eyes shut. “She destroyed our garden. Clouds blotted out the sun—I’ve never seen a storm so fierce in my life. And then she made great vines encircle the cottage. They blocked my window and barricaded my door. She trapped me there. To keep me with her.”

Hades swears under his breath and pulls her close to him again. She nestles against him, her head tucked under his chin as though she was meant to be there.

“I was so afraid.” Her whisper is almost completely swallowed by his robes, but Hades hears her. He always hears her.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here. I won’t leave you, I promise. You’re not alone, Persephone.” She pulls back, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Neither are you,” she tells him.

There is no doubt in Hades’ mind that he would do anything for this girl. His love is a terrifying thing—so powerful and uncontrollable that he’s afraid of it. But for Persephone, anything is possible. Golden ichor stains his robes. He can see the wounds, now—angry slashes spilling across her arms, her face, her legs. Her gown is in tatters—something ripped through it.  
“Someone hurt you.” Persephone looks down at herself and laughs shakily.

“No. I cut through the vines and climbed out of the window. I don’t know how I did it, exactly. I didn’t even know I had that kind of power. They were growing all over our garden—where it used to be. I didn’t feel any pain. I still don’t.”

A feral part of Hades growls. His girl hurt herself just to get away from Demeter.

“You can’t go back there.” She nods and buries her face in his chest again. A hand comes up to cradle the back of her hair as Hades’ mind reels.

What are their options? They can’t hide in Olympus—Zeus would never allow it. Apollo sees too much for his own good. Wherever the sun shines, they will never be safe. That leaves only one option, but Hades can’t possibly suggest it. No, there has to be some other option he hasn’t considered yet.

He doesn’t have to.

“Take me away from here,” Persephone begs him.

“Where can we go?” he asks, voice tinged with pain and desperation. “We’re immortals and I don’t have enough power to hide us both from mortal eyes. Anywhere we go we’d risk being caught and brought before Olympus. No place on earth is safe for us.”

“Then we won’t hide on earth. We’ll hide below it.” Hades laughs, but Persephone is serious.

“The last place anyone will look for me is in the Underworld,” she points out. “You control who comes in and out, so only those you trust will even know I’m there. Please, Hades. It’s the only choice.”

“No, there has to be some other way—” her fingers brush over his jaw and the words die in his throat. Her touch is—he daren’t say tender but it’s soft and sweet.

“There isn’t. And you know it.”

She’s right.

“The Underworld is different,” he warns her halfheartedly. “Hardly anything grows there.”

“I don’t care. You’re there and that’s all I care about. Please, Hades. Take me home with you.” How can he say no to her when she’s looking at him like that? Her eyes are wide and he can count every freckle on her nose. Her lips tremble as she sighs out a breath. He wants to kiss her. To cover her mouth with his until their breath mingles and she sighs with delight.

He doesn’t. Not yet. Not like this. Instead, he presses a chaste kiss to her forehead and tries to ignore the shiver that runs through her body at his touch.

“Alright,” he breathes into her hair. “Alright.” He reluctantly pulls himself out of her embrace and leads her to his chariot. He lifts her into it—marvelling at how his hands span her waist—before stepping up and taking the reins. Her arms slip around his waist.

“Thank you,” she breathes. Hades swallows sharply. _There’s no turning back, now._

“Hold on tight,” he tells her and she does. She’s holding him so tight he can barely breathe. He never wants her to let go.

He raises his arm above his head and brings down the whip with a sharp _crack_ startling his stallions into motion. With a twitch of his fingers, the ground before them splits open into a yawning abyss.

Hades feels Persephone gasp, feels her arms grip him tighter. And then they are plunging down below into the belly of the earth, the ground falling back into place behind them and sealing off the Overworld. All that marks their passage is a large ring of pure white daisies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> My AWANA playlist is available on [Spotify.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=-2xQ5f_mT2eU3leSCvt5pw)
> 
> The chapter titles come from the musical [Hadestown.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=Ql-CEVJERC6IGRpfAubFGA)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! Comments and kudos feed this poor author's soul <3


	11. Take me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades’ hand is warm against hers, and she clings to it, hoping that this single shred of warmth in the cold kingdom will keep her grounded. Even the earth below her feet is cool as she steps down from the onyx chariot, so different from the sun-warmed soil she’s used to. What is she doing here? This isn’t the place for a nature goddess. Maybe her mother was right.
> 
> _No._ Persephone forces her thoughts to calm. _I left home for a reason. This is my choice._
> 
> She lets Hades lead her up the steps and into the palace, the door swinging open to welcome them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient with the delayed upload! This week has been insane with unpacking and starting a new job, and I got overwhelmed way faster than I expected to. I hope you enjoy this chapter lovelies!

The wind whips at Persephone’s skin, the breakneck speed turning her hair into ropes that lash at her cheeks. It should be terrifying to travel so quickly. Her journey from the dawn-lit field outside her mother’s cottage into the cool darkness of the Underworld passing in a matter of seconds. But Persephone isn’t afraid, far from it. She’s elated. The thundering of hoofbeats against the tunnel floor is lost under the pounding of her heart. This is her great rebellion. 

She tightens her arms around Hades’ waist. One slip and she’ll be flung out of the chariot and dashed against the jagged rocks that make up the walls of the tunnel. Hades is solid and strong though, and the moment of worry dissipates. He came all this way for her; he wouldn’t let her fall. 

She lifts her face and stares down the dark tunnel, eyes struggling to make out the shapes that blur past them. Persephone laughs, a high, bright sound that echoes against the passage with startling noise. For the first time in her life, she feels truly alive.

She can feel the change more than see it. The tunnel walls fall away until they’re in a massive cavern. The chariot charges forward, and she only catches glimpses of this strange new world: a stony ceiling where there should be sky, faded green fields, and the six rivers as black as pitch that encircle the land. There are people, too. Translucent figures wandering aimlessly through the open plain. A shiver runs down Persephone’s spine. _Shades._

A dark shape catches her eye and she turns, gasping quietly at the sight before her. Towering over the land of the dead is a massive structure, black as night. As the chariot slows in front of the building, Persephone can see the faint grey veins tracing the marble. The tallest spires of the palace nearly reach the cavern’s stalactites, far bigger than any tree back home. The towers are crowned with pointed roofs, and Persephone can’t help but think that they look like teeth.

On the largest point, three gnarled bodies hang off of the sides like great bats. They stand guard, unmoving, as Hades steps down from the chariot and offers Persephone his hand. Are the figures the Erinyes? The three fearsome Furies tasked with keeping the shades of the dead in line. Whenever Demeter told stories of the Underworld the horrible Furies always made a cameo to punish the deplorable souls who got on Hades’ bad side and tried to cheat death.

Hades’ hand is warm against hers, and she clings to it, hoping that this single shred of warmth in the cold kingdom will keep her grounded. Even the earth below her feet is cool as she steps down from the onyx chariot, so different from the sun-warmed soil she’s used to. What is she doing here? This isn’t the place for a nature goddess. Maybe her mother was right.

_No._ Persephone forces her thoughts to calm. _I left home for a reason. This is my choice._

She lets Hades lead her up the steps and into the palace, the door swinging open to welcome them home.

The entrance hall is high and vaulted—arches supporting the ceiling far above. She wants to slow and take in every tiny detail of this strange new place, but Hades’ pace doesn’t falter. He leads her through, her bare feet silent on the cool stone, until they enter an ostentatious room with a throne at the far end. Persephone spins, taking it all in. The chromium throne itself looks uncomfortable and imposing, but her eye is drawn away by a flash of something bright. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling is a fixture of candles and diamond that scatters the light into the corners of the chamber. Precious gems stud the walls, unfurling into patterns that she cannot place. 

Then her gaze snags on the ceiling. This is the one part of the room not carved from marble, she can’t even tell what it’s made of. The ceiling is a velvety-black that reminds her of the night sky on summer nights. The surface is studded with precious gems, diamonds, and arranged with no seeming rhyme or reason, but Persephone knows these shapes. She’s spent most of her life counting them and naming them.

“Stars,” she breathes. Hades steps until he is behind her, his eyes upturned.

“Ever since I came down to the Underworld, I’ve missed the stars most. No one has ever noticed that I brought the stars down here.” 

_Until you,_ he doesn’t say but Persephone knows. She shivers, only just noticing the insidious chill in the air down here. Hades sees and unfastens his cloak from around his shoulders. Her words of protest die on her tongue as he drapes the fabric around her shoulders. It’s incredibly soft—still warm from his body—and she draws it around herself like a shield.

“Come on.” The words are spoken softly. Hades urges her towards a door she hadn’t noticed before, tucked behind a pillar draped in rich silks. “Let me show you around.” With one last look at the starry ceiling, Persephone follows him.

They pass through corridors, up winding staircases, and deeper into the palace. She peeks into each room they pass, marveling at the splendor, and wondering at the emptiness she finds. The rooms are beautiful, yes, but there’s no one in them. Persephone doesn’t see anyone: no shades or daemons, no Furies or demigods. 

When she finally finds her voice, it’s startlingly loud in the relative quiet of their tour, and she cringes. 

“Do you live here alone?” Hades’ step stutters for a brief moment.

“I do. It’s alright. I’m used to being alone.”

“You’re not alone anymore. You have me.” The look he gives her is nothing short of adoring.

“Yeah, I do.” Persephone catches the edge of a smile. Hades’ smile is stunning—it warms her core and sets her heart fluttering like a bird. She wants to make him smile again. Wants to bring him light even in his dark kingdom. It’s the least she can do since he’s helped her escape and given her sanctuary.

“Persephone.” She blinks. Hades is several steps ahead and looking at her concerned. “Are you coming?”

“Where are we going?” She asks, jogging a couple of paces to catch up.

“To the rooms.” Persephone feels the color rise in her cheeks at the implication. She’s not even sure why, after all she assumes that he brought her to his home to be his companion. Of course he would want her in his bed. 

Despite her bravado, she knows nothing of love and pleasure—only gossip from the nymphs and vague metaphors her mother explained as though they left a bitter taste in her mouth. Persephone isn’t a child anymore, and she trusts Hades. 

“Right,” she says quietly. “To your rooms.” 

“What?” Hades whirls, eyes wide. “No that’s not what I—what I mean to say is—” His face is nearly as scarlet as hers feels. 

“Where else would I be staying?” she asks cautiously. 

“You have your own rooms, Persephone. I would never expect—I mean, you’re not obliged to—” he splutters. _Oh._ She ducks her head to hide her face from him. She hears the rustle of his robes as he steps closer, not enough to touch her, but enough to be nearby and comforting.

“I will never ask or expect anything of you unless it is for your safety,” he murmurs sweetly. “You’re free, Persephone. I won’t trap you in a cage. This is your home now as well as mine. I want you to feel comfortable here. To be safe. So your rooms are just down the hall from mine. Close enough that I’m there if you need anything, but far enough to give you your own space.” His hand comes up to cradle her cheek. Despite the burn in her face, Persephone leans into the gentle touch. “You get to decide what to do with your life. Not your mother, not the gods, not even I will take that from you. You deserve that.”

Tears well in Persephone’s eyes. No one has ever given her a choice before. She’s always followed other people’s plans, their dreams replacing hers. Hades was giving her control back. The control she lacked her entire childhood—as, she suspects, he lacked in his own. He ducks down a corridor and Persephone goes to follow before she catches something in the edge of her vision.

In a small courtyard at the heart of Hades’ palace, she sees the first living thing (besides him). She pads towards it, amazed that anything can grow down here. It is a proud pomegranate tree, and it looks well cared for. Her stomach rumbles and Persephone realizes she hasn’t eaten in far too long. Just a few seeds wouldn’t hurt. She reaches up, fingertips brushing the hard rind when strong fingers clamp down on her wrist.

“Hades!” she jumps.

“Don’t,” he says simply. When he sees her confusion he sighs. “If you eat the food of the Underworld, you can never escape. You will be trapped here. I’ll have the servants bring you food from the Overworld.”

Persephone wants to tell him that she doesn’t mind staying here. That she would be happy wherever he is. Instead, she tells him in a voice so meek it doesn’t sound like her at all, “You can let me go, now.” Hades swallows sharply and drops her hand as though it burned him, turning on his heel and heading back inside.

Persephone says nothing for the rest of the tour. Her fingers rub at her wrist where he had grabbed her. It hadn’t hurt at all, but it did make her wonder. _What have I gotten myself into?_

“These are your rooms.” Hades gestures into a doorway carved with pomegranates and asphodel blooms. Persephone steps inside and freezes. She has never seen such a beautiful place. Here, the black marble is veined in gold. Mirrors and crystals cover the walls, dotted by oil lamps and statues as decor. Hades bows to her stiffly, says he has some minor business to attend to but that he will be back shortly.

As soon as she’s alone, Persephone explores her rooms. She finds a bath set into the floor, delighted when the pitcher of water next to it proves itself to be hot and never ending. Perfumed oils are stoppered along the bath’s edge, suffusing the steamy air with jasmine and lavender. Persephone slips from her clothes—still stained with ichor and torn from her escape—and slides into the bath with an appreciative groan. The dirt and ichor slough off of her skin and she wraps a cloth around herself, feeling light and refreshed.

Persephone ducks into the bedroom, flopping on the massive bed and sighing. This is true luxury. For the first time in her life, she feels like a goddess. No. She feels like a queen. It’s with great reluctance that she forces herself up out of the bed. Crossing to the garderobe, she throws it open and gasps.

It is full of beautiful dresses of every color—pale spring greens and summer sea blue are interspersed with daisy white and sunshine yellows. Her fingers trailed appreciatively over the delicate gowns. How is she supposed to pick between them? They’re all so lovely. The dresses are the sort of thing Kore would’ve loved to wear. But she isn't Kore. Persephone sifts through the gowns and hums softly to herself. This is her opportunity to discover who she wants to be. When she catches sight of the last gown, she smiles and pulls it out. _Perfect._

When she sees herself in the mirror, Persephone gasps aloud. The gown is elegant and black, the scooping neckline embroidered with golden leaves. It’s intoxicating. Twirling slowly, she marvels at the fit and the movement of the fabric. She has never worn something so lovely as this. A feeling bubbles up in her—elation at her new life.

She practically floats out of her room and into the hallway, having decided that exploring her new home is a perfect use of her time.

There are more suites along the hallway, each one as ostentatious and empty as the next. Was this palace built by a younger, more optimistic Hades? Was he expecting to have bonny companions like Zeus has on Olympus? Hades could easily put up the entirety of Olympus here, but instead the rooms are cold, untouched. Persephone’s heart sags, heavy with the sorrow for the dark king. He’s not the monster she was told of as a child. He’s only a lonely god, trying his best to ignore the darkness always surrounding him.

Persephone’s feet trailed to a stop outside of an ebony door carved with an ‘H’. Hades’ rooms. She’s not even intending to look inside, after all, he deserves his privacy, too, but the door is open and something glints, catching her eye. She looks up and down the hall, anxious that she’ll be caught snooping. Persephone is alone. Taking a quiet breath, she lifts her fingers to the door and nudges it further open.

Hades’ rooms are similar to her own, the only differences being the personal touches. A helm of black and silver, radiating with power. A statue of white marble, shocking against the black of the walls and the dark silks of the curtains. It’s another object that holds Persephone’s attention. Her breath catches in her chest, almost painful as she stares at it.

On a table is a bouquet of small shimmering moonstones arranged like daisies. She steps closer, stooping to admire the craftsmanship. The flowers are exquisite, perched atop emerald stems with topaz centers. The small cluster of gems is so lifelike Persephone closes her eyes and breathes in deep. 

She lurches back, reeling in her surprise. The flowers are _alive._ She can smell the bright daisy scent of them, and when she reaches out with her magic, there is still life flowing through the stones. It is then that she realizes what she’s looking at. A gift, given in a moment of courage. A promise of kindness to a dark haired man in the woods.

These are her flowers. The ones she gave Hades. He must have tried to save them, to stave off their eventual withering and decay the only way he knew how. Persephone let her fingers brush against the cold moonstone petals, a smile on her face, before she turns and leaves Hades’ rooms, and the beautiful flowers within them. 

After all, she has a whole world to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> You can find me on Twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> AWANA has a playlist on [Spotify.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=NDJmyfiCRiOh9pzPYhPBfQ)
> 
> And as always, every chapter title comes from [Hadestown the musical!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=3O-EGT8OQ0a16i3g5YTIVA)
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me sane! I'm seriously blown away by how many people have found my story. This all started as a writing exercise to see if I can write longer fics and also a Reylo/Greek mythology crossover. All of you have made these quarantimes so much better. Thank you <3


	12. They're givin' me Hell back in Hades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades takes a deep, steadying breath. _He can do this. It’s just like all of the other formal declarations he’s made, right?_ Pretending that this is a routine announcement makes it far less daunting, even if he knows that’s a lie. He wills his heart to slow and dips his hands into the folds of his robes where no one can see that they are shaking. Raising his eyes to the assembly before him, Hades lets his rich voice ring out through his throne room.
> 
> “Lady Persephone will be living here, in the palace, for the foreseeable future.”
> 
> The throne room explodes into noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter this week. I had a lot of fun combining the First Order characters we know and love with some of the mythological denizens of the Underworld. I love Phasma and Hux too much to exclude them from my story!

Hades takes a deep, steadying breath. _He can do this. It’s just like all of the other formal declarations he’s made, right?_ Pretending that this is a routine announcement makes it far less daunting, even if he knows that’s a lie. He wills his heart to slow and dips his hands into the folds of his robes where no one can see that they are shaking. Raising his eyes to the assembly before him, Hades lets his rich voice ring out through his throne room.

“Lady Persephone will be living here, in the palace, for the foreseeable future.”

The throne room explodes into noise. A cacophony of voices demand answers or cry outrage at his declaration. He lets the sound wash over him, closing his eyes for a brief moment and sends up a prayer to Calliope. If the Muse of oration and poetry can even spare a moment of her time to lend Hades her aid, he knows he can get through. This meeting is off to a rocky start, and he doesn’t see it getting any easier. He has gathered his highest ranking officers—from drowsy Hypnos to violent Alekto—to discuss the arrival of Persephone in the Underworld.

When the voices finally quiet down, a daemon steps forward looking outraged.

“My Lord, this is entirely ridiculous!” Hux protests. “The girl cannot possibly stay here. She is an Overworlder. For one of her kind to remain in the Underworld for any length of time is unheard of. It’s simply impossible!”

“Yes,” one of the Furies—Megaera, judging by the harsh look she throws Hades—hisses through her razor-sharp fangs. “No god other than Hermes has visited these halls since the Underworld was first created. It is unnatural, to have an Overworlder here.” The snakes that writhe against her scalp flick their tongues in agreement. But it has been a long time since Hades was afraid of the Furies’ ghastly appearance, so he merely sighs and shakes his head at her.

“She’s a spy.” Phobos’ high thin voice pierces the air, vibrating with anxiety. “Sent here by Zeus to infiltrate us! She will lead us like lambs to the slaughter. Torture. She’ll bring torture. And _pain._ She will bring the wrath of Olympus on our heads and we will be crushed—trapped under the earth like the Titans. War. That is what we will face if she stays.” Hades tries not to roll his eyes at the son of Ares. Phobos is a creature of fear and battle-lust. He sews chaos as easily as some do grain. His constant worrying drives Hades to near madness, but the creature does have his uses.

“Let Lord Hades speak.” It is a soft voice, but it cuts through the clamor like the hull of a ship sliucing through water. Charon the ferryman stands in the back, leaning glumly against a pillar. His hood is pulled low over his face—he is insecure of his ugliness—but he has a quiet authority that none but Hades dare challenge. The crowd falls silent, looking between the ferryman and the god. No one dares speak. 

Hades nods to the ferryman, gratitude turning quickly to hesitancy. It takes a moment for the god to recenter himself and he carefully formulates his next words. 

“You clearly know the rules of my kingdom better than I do, Hux,” Hades tells the daemon curtly. The words strike the red-haired daemon like a blow, his face wincing in instantaneous regret.

“Of course not, Your Majesty. I only meant—”

“You only meant to tell me how to do my job. I understand your discomfort with this situation, Hux. But Lady Persephone is my guest, and as such, she shall be treated as an honored visitor.”

Hux flinches once more. Has the daemon always been so jumpy? A steady hand reaches out and lands on Hux’s shoulder, meant to soothe and silence in equal measure. He shoots its owner a grateful look, and the captain of the guard nods solemnly.

“Of course, sir,” drawls Phasma. She shoots Hux a warning look before turning her pale eyes back to Hades. “What are our orders?”

Hux has ambition, and Hades treats him gingerly for fear of the daemon starting a riot amongst his brethren. Phasma, however, was a different sort of dangerous. Tall and commanding, the captain of the guard is not to be trifled with. Her sword is always sharp, and her armor is forged out of shining chrome that hurts to look at. Her soldiers are incredibly loyal to her, and Hades knows from personal experience that her cunning is borne from bloodshed and steel. 

“There will be servants to attend to her. She is unused to a land without sunlight and constant companions. She will be lonely until she adjusts, and her comfort is of the utmost importance.”  
Both daemons nod—Hux scribbling notes down frantically as Hades speaks, “Any resident of the Underworld who speaks ill of her or intends her harm will immediately be thrown into the Fields of Punishment.” Hux’s stylus halts for a moment.

“Of course, Supreme Leader,” the daemon finally murmurs, voice trembling a little with fear.

“Whatever the lady desires will be given,” Hades continues. “Be that clothes, books, or food. Speaking of sustenance, the only food given to Persephone will come from the Overworld. I’m certain there are certain avenues my almighty brother has overlooked. Price is not an issue—she will feast like a queen. You will answer any and all questions she might have. _Honestly,”_ he adds, shooting Phobos a stern look. The creature grimaces in displeasure but nods nonetheless.

“Will she need a guard, my lord?”

“I considered the matter, captain, and I do not think it necessary. Escorts will be provided should she wish to walk through the kingdom, but I have faith in your guards that the Underworld should be perfectly safe.” Phasma nods, clearly pleased. Good. Her approval will make this all so much easier.

“Supreme Leader?” Hades fights the sigh that rises in his throat.

“What is it, Hux?”

“What do you intend to do when the Overworlders come for her?” 

It’s as though a bolt of Zeus’ lightning pins Hades to his throne. What _does_ he intend to do? He didn’t exactly think any of this out—he’s making it up as he goes along and doing a fairly decent job of improvising—and that’s something that he hadn’t even considered. Hux is right. Someday, the Overworlders and Olympians will inevitably track Persephone back here to Hades’ kingdom. Demeter will never believe that her daughter went with him willingly. Hades is fine with that; he’s used to being seen as a monster. Hell, he even sees himself that way most of the time. 

When Persephone is around, though, he feels almost peaceful. The war that rages inside him settles into calm, and he is filled with her light. What will he do when the Olympians take that from him? They’ve taken enough—his birthright, his kingdom, his joy. They will take her from him, too. Something inside him shatters—splintering his delight that she’s really _here_ with him until it pierces his skin like shards of ice.

Right now, the denizens of the Underworld are looking at him expectantly. He can’t be a doting fool now. He’s their king, and he owes them a proper answer. Hades swallows the lump in his throat.

“When that day comes, I will not make a decision. If Lady Persephone wishes to return to the world Above then I will not stop her. It is her choice, ultimately, if she remains here or leaves for the world of sun. I will not rob her of that small courtesy.”

It’s a diplomatic answer—putting on the persona of the calm and reasonable king of the Underworld and hiding his true face—the frightened man who so desperately wishes for her to stay here. With him. 

Luckily, it satisfies the assembly. They scatter, sensing the dismissal in his words. No one asks the question they really want answered, and it doesn’t need to be said. They all know that if anyone harms or threatens Persephone, Hades will rain down his wrath on them with all of the might of Hell. Persephone was under his protection—woe be to those who threaten Hades’ rule.

When the last of his officers vanishes down the hall, Hades slumps in his throne with a groan. Public speaking has never been his forte. Hades prefers to commit his words to scrolls. He runs a shaking hand through his hair, upsetting his crown. He hooks it and sets it on the arm of his throne. Well, it’s done now. Persephone is officially under his protection, and he knows that at least his subjugates won’t dare to challenge his ruling.

Hades knows that he will hear the whispers of insidious doubt, though. The nagging voice that has been there as long as he can remember, inspiring paranoia and suspicion whenever he is alone. In spite of himself, Hades laughs bitterly. The King of the Titans is locked deep in Tartarus. He has no power here, not anymore.

“Sorry, father,” Hades pushes up from his seat. “I won’t let you control me.” He steps down from the dais, crown forgotten, and goes to find Persephone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> AWANA has a playlist on [Spotify!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=-2xQ5f_mT2eU3leSCvt5pw)
> 
> All titles are taken from the incredible [Hadestown musical.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=Ql-CEVJERC6IGRpfAubFGA) You should absolutely give it a listen!
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for comments, kudos, and reading my story! I hope that it brings you a little joy in these strange times. Stay happy, stay safe, and stay well lovelies <3


	13. Shining like it never did before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I find myself with an afternoon off. What do you want to do?” Persephone’s eyes widen a fraction before her expression settles into something safe.
> 
> “We’ve explored all of your palace,” she says thoughtfully. “But I have yet to see the rest of your kingdom. I’d like to see it, if it’s not too much trouble.”
> 
> Fear grips Hades, chilling his blood. He had hoped the palace would be enough to satiate her boundless curiosity, but Persephone always yearns for adventure—for _more._ He should know better than to keep her like a bird.
> 
> “Are you certain? The Underworld is not a pleasant place,” he warns. “There is a reason my kingdom is feared and avoided by all Olympians.”
> 
> “It’s a good thing I’m not an Olympian, then, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope that incorporating the voices in Ben/Hades' head makes sense. I needed a way to align the two different narratives, and I think I did okay.

Hades sets his crown on its pedestal and sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and marvels about how _nice_ it feels to be out from under its crushing responsibility. His kingly duties fulfilled, he finds himself with some time to kill, as it were. Before he realizes where they’re leading him, his traitorous feet bring him to the edge of the courtyard. To her.

It has been a month since Hades took her from the Overworld. One entire month with the most fascinating woman he has ever met. Though it hasn’t been long since she has been here, he knows her well enough to find her without effort.

Persephone is curled at the base of his pomegranate tree, a heavy leather tome propped on her knees. Her lips move silently as she scans the pages, brow furrowed in a way that makes Hades’ heart lurch in his chest. It’s an expression he knows well—the face she makes when the story she is reading takes a dark turn. She explained to him once that it’s not the dark that worries her, but the happiness of the heroes.

“How could anyone tell a story about two people overcoming insurmountable odds to fall in love and find each other, only for fate to cruelly rip them away from each other?”

He had shrugged, unsure of how exactly to answer. “I prefer happy endings, too,” he had told her. The look on her face had been shy, but breathtaking.

The Underworld has changed Persephone—that much is certain—though not in the ways Hades expected. This place drains the vitality from its residents—daemon, shade, and god alike. Hades had always had pale skin and dark hair that renders him even paler. But there are no circles like bruises under Persephone’s eyes—no waxen pallor to her skin. Quite the opposite, in fact.

She looks happier now than she did when she arrived in his kingdom. Lighter. She has abandoned the flowing white gowns Demeter forced her into, favoring rich, dark colors. Right now, Persephone is draped in a dress that is the deep red of spilled wine and pomegranate seeds. The color stands out against her freckled skin, and even after her time in the Underworld, the luster of immortality clings to her skin like stardust.

A lock of hair falls in front of her face. Hades’ fingers itch to brush it behind her ear, but Persephone huffs in displeasure and blows it out of her face. It’s so endearing, Hades bites back a laugh. 

He isn’t willing to shatter this moment just yet. He wants to live in it a little while longer.

Persephone is fully engrossed in the book and doesn’t notice him standing there. The only sounds are the quiet gasps that fall from her lips and the whisper of pages turning. Here, in the heart of his palace, she looks like an angel.

Hades knows he’s staring. He doesn’t care.

Persephone glances up and sees him, her cheeks coloring as she realizes that he’s been silently observing her.

“I didn’t see you,” she mumbles, clutching the book to her chest and rising to her feet.

“It’s alright,” Hades reassures her with a fond smile. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

The smile she flashes him is brilliant and blinding. “Oh, well that’s alright then.” She ducks her head, and they fall into an easy silence. There are more of these now. Little moments shared between them where no words are needed. They can simply enjoy each other’s company. Hades has never had anything like this before. He loves it. Sadly, he didn’t come here just to appreciate his houseguest (though he’d be a liar if he pretended that wasn’t also part of it).

“How are you doing? I hope that everything has been to your liking.”

“Everything is lovely. The rooms are luxurious, the clothing is wonderful—I never knew there could be so many choices! Your staff are perfectly kind and patient with me, and your library is—” she trails off, words failing her. Hades tries not to stare at her lip as she worries it between her teeth. Tries not to fall under the spell as she shifts her weight like a dancer, waiting for inspiration. “You have so many books,” she finally says. “I never knew you were such a scholar before I lived here.”

Now it is Hades’ turn to blush and turn his face away.

“I was never much for conversation. Books, poetry, plays—they’re a way for me to escape the Underworld for a little while and dwell in the world of men.” He says it casually, as though he hadn’t cried as a young god over his loneliness and separation from his peers.

“Do you write any? Poetry.”

“A little.” 

Persephone smiles wickedly. “Why, Hades. You’re a proper romantic!” He can feel the tips of his ears burn at her words. Persephone’s laugh is like a cool stream through the woods—light and bubbly. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

It’s easy, laughing with her like this. Easier than anything else Hades has ever done. He wonders at it, wonders if this is what it would be like if she returned his feelings for her. They hadn't expressly... agreed they were courting, and Hades was afraid to ask. He remained in the limbo, too afraid of a no... or a yes, and all it meant. But, no. No one could ever feel that way about him.  
He is meant to be feared, to be the heartless monster his siblings think him to be. Love and belonging aren’t in the cards for the king of the dead.

“Well then,” he says when his laughter finally subsides. “I find myself with an afternoon off. What do you want to do?” Persephone’s eyes widen a fraction before her expression settles into  
something safe.

“We’ve explored all of your palace,” she says thoughtfully. “But I have yet to see the rest of your kingdom. I’d like to see it, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Fear grips Hades, chilling his blood. He had hoped the palace would be enough to satiate her boundless curiosity, but Persephone always yearns for adventure—for _more._ He should know better than to keep her like a bird.

“Are you certain? The Underworld is not a pleasant place,” he warns. “There is a reason my kingdom is feared and avoided by all Olympians.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not an Olympian, then, isn’t it?” she quips.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea—” Hades starts but the words die in his mouth as Persephone’s hand alights on his wrist—barely a touch, and yet it pins him as though she were made of stone.

“I’m not afraid, Hades. Not of the Underworld, not of death, and not of you. I know you won’t let anything happen to me. It’s safer for you to give me the tour than, say, Hux.”

The sound of the daemon’s name in Persephone’s mouth twists in Hades’ gut like a knife’s blade. He has seen the looks he gives Persephone. 

“If you’re sure,” Hades concedes. Persephone rises onto her tiptoes and brushes a kiss over his cheek.

“I’m sure.” Stunned, Hades lets her slip her arm through his and he leads Persephone out of the palace and into the Underworld. 

First, he takes her through the Fields of Asphodel. The grass, which has always been a dull greyish green,sprouts flowers as soon as Persephone steps into the field. Hades has learned much about nature since Persephone moved in and he is surprised to find he recognizes the little blooms. Six white petals jut out from an orange center. Narcissus. The flowers of rebirth and happiness. He watches her run into the field, a trail of the pretty flowers cropping up after her with a look of wonder. What did he do to deserve to see this? A nature goddess in the Underworld is a potent thing, and soon, the entirety of Asphodel is carpeted in lovely blossoms.

The shades are drawn to her as much as he is. They are the remnants of human souls—rendered gray and insubstantial with the loss of their mortal bodies—but still recognizable. Persephone stands in a crowd of them, their paper-thin voices like rustling leaves as they speak with her. Hades cannot hear what she says in reply—nor does he know the question posed—but the shades seem to appreciate the answer, their faces sharpening into a semblance of life instead of the dull visages of the dead and gone.

Hades steps to join her and the spirits scatter away from him, running like rabbits out of his path. When he reaches Persephone, he wants to ask her what she told them but he knows it’s her own story. It is not for him to know—not unless she chooses to tell him.

“I thought Asphodel was supposed to be a sad place.”

“It is. These shades are trapped here—wandering and unable to see their loved ones again.” A shudder runs through Persephone. Hades takes her by the hand and leads her away from the pale faces.

Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed are an entirely different story. Where Asphodel was gray and bleak, Elysium is bright and lively. It is fashioned after a miniature city—strings of lanterns running between the buildings, and the cheerful strains of music can be heard over the singing and laughter.

Persephone brightens, and Hades leads her through the night market—everything is free, of course. What use is coin once you pay Charon’s fee, after all? She marvels at the bright necklaces strung with rubies and sapphires. She is entranced by a play being put on in the main square—eyes wide and bright as she absorbs the blessed island.

But she is a girl used to the quiet of the countryside, and she slips her small hand in his.

“Let’s go,” she whispers. Hades agrees, and they leave the blessed island and go further into the Underworld.

He knows where they must go next. Cold dread grips his heart with icy claws. His breath catches in his throat and for one horrible moment it feels like he’s choking. But the inhale comes—stuttering and short—but grounding.

Persephone hears it, looking up at his face with her eyes doe-wide with concern.

“Are you alright, Hades? You look pale.”

 _Of course I do,_ he wants to tell her. _I’m the god of death and I’m terrified._

Her hands come up to cup his cheeks, halting their progress just shy of the crest of the hill. The hill that hides his greatest shame. His deepest regret. Hades is fixed by her gaze—pinned like a butterfly, and in this moment he feels like a fragile thing. Persephone is strong and sure. Steady as an oak.

“Hey,” she murmurs. “You’re alright. I’m here.”

“That’s the problem,” he tells her weakly. “You’re here.” She jerks back as if struck. Hades bites his tongue, cracking the whip of his self-loathing even as he reaches for her. “Wait that’s not—I didn’t mean—” When the right words finally come, his voice doesn’t break or stumble. “I’m afraid.”

That garners a reaction, thank the stars. Persephone pauses in her retreat, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”

“Where we’re going—where I’m taking you. It’s not a pleasant place. It’s the worst part of the Underworld. I’m afraid of taking you there, because it means that you’ll see. You’ll see what I’ve done, and you’ll understand why they all think I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster!”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” She takes a step toward him, then another. Until they’re nose to nose and he can count every freckle on her cheeks. “Hades, you’re not a monster. Not to me. We’re heading to Tartarus, aren’t we?” 

He shudders at the name, a breathy “yes” falling from his lips. This is where he’s trapped in his nightmares. Falling into the dark pit, arms flailing for purchase and finding none. He knows what’s down there at the bottom. Titans. Raging still over being overthrown by the gods. Bound by chains of iron and magic. Screaming. His own father calling for revenge and cursing the name of his firstborn son.

Warmth floods him, startling Hades out of his nightmare. Persephone has stood on tiptoe to press a chaste kiss against his cheek. It is like the summer sun and honeyed wine. It takes his breath away. She pulls back a little, smiles.

“Come back to me, Hades. Whatever is down there—it can’t hurt you anymore.”

“It can!” he cries, then lowers his voice to a hush. “It does. I rarely sleep, but when I do all I can hear are their screams and jeers.” _You did this. Killer. Monster. Let us out! Let us in. My boy, I could give you everything you’ve ever wanted—_

“Hades,” Persephone murmurs gently and all of a sudden he can’t look at her eyes—so wide and earnest—so he buries his face in her shoulder. Her hand comes up to cradle the back of his head and Hades nearly whimpers at her touch. He’s not used to soft, gentle things. “Hades, none of this is your fault. You did what you had to do so the rest of us could live peaceful lives. You aren’t a monster. You’re the man who protects us from the true monsters.”

They stand there like that for a while, Hades holding onto Persephone while she cards her fingers through his hair, soothing him with every touch. When he is finally able to lift his head and meet her gaze once more, he finds his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“Thank you.”

“For what? I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, you have,” Hades insists. “You’re kind.” Something in her eyes strikes like flint before falling back into her accustomed softness.

“You deserve kindness.”

“So do you,” he tells her, hand coming up to cup her cheek. Persephone leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut with a content smile. When her eyes flutter open again, Hades’ heart jolts a little in his chest. _Stars, she’s beautiful._

Below in the pit, Kronos screams out his frustration. He’s so close to pulling his son to him, to the dark. The girl who shines like sunlight is pulling Hades away, her grip surprisingly strong as she pulls the lord of the Underworld away from Tartarus’ edge and the voice within.

“Come on,” she says as she entwines her fingers in his. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> AWANA has a playlist which you can find [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=-2xQ5f_mT2eU3leSCvt5pw)
> 
> Chapter title comes from [Hadestown the musical!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=Ql-CEVJERC6IGRpfAubFGA)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! Your comments and kudos keep me going and I appreciate each and every one of them so much <3


	14. When the weather takes a turn on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the disappearance of her beloved daughter, Demeter has been scouring the earth to find her and bring her home. Each of the gods had, in turn, tried to help her on her quest. Each was forced back when the burning fervor within her pushed past the limits of their power. So, they have watched her descend into madness, visiting oracles and soothsayers. Reading the innards of a mighty eagle—the symbol of the lost child’s father—in desperate effort to seek the truth of her lost one.
> 
> Her grief has changed the world into an unrecognizable thing. Crops wither, Boreas is unleashed to bite the land with his frosty breath, and the animals hide and slumber in an attempt to outlive the horrors. The mortals are starving. Their prayers reach Olympus. heir screams of pain and mourning break through the gentle music of the palace, scattering the musicians and causing minor spirits to cover their ears as they walked the halls. Their graves are innumerable. 
> 
> Zeus can ignore their pleas for mercy no longer. Demeter’s scourge must end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you were all probably expecting a Persephone chapter, but we needed a moment to see how her disappearance is wreaking havoc in Olympus and on earth.

Above

Olympus trembles with the weight of Zeus’ rage. Lightning splits the sky and the heavens are hidden by the heavy black clouds. Below on the surface, the mortals hide in their little dwellings, burning offerings to appease the angry god-king. Their supplication is unnecessary. It is not the mortals who have incurred his wrath. That honor goes to his sister.

“Demeter,” Zeus growls. “Enough. As your king, I command you. End this. Bring back the harvest. This famine has gone on too long.”

“No!” she screams. The other Olympians shy away from her, sharing looks of concern and even fear. The lady of the harvest looks nothing like herself. Her hair, which had always hung in shining wheat-colored curls was limp and lustreless—tangled into a bird’s nest of knots as though she was a feral creature and not a goddess. Her gown was practically torn into tatters, barely protecting her modesty. Normally, the gods in the room would look upon her with lecherous eyes. These aren’t normal times. The air around her is crisp with Boreas’ bite—a winter wind that frosts the crops and kills the harvest even as it pushes through the earth. Her feet are bare and caked with mud and debris. The crown of gold on her head has tarnished in the bitter cold she hath wrought, dulling it until it looks like rotting flowers in the dead of winter. 

In one hand, she wields a blazing torch. It is a gift from her dear friend Hecate—a torch that can illuminate everything. Since the disappearance of her beloved daughter, Demeter has been scouring the earth to find her and bring her home. Each of the gods had, in turn, tried to help her on her quest. Each was forced back when the burning fervor within her pushed past the limits of their power. So, they have watched her descend into madness, visiting oracles and soothsayers. Reading the innards of a mighty eagle—the symbol of the lost child’s father—in desperate effort to seek the truth of her lost one.

Her grief has changed the world into an unrecognizable thing. Crops wither, Boreas is unleashed to bite the land with his frosty breath, and the animals hide and slumber in an attempt to outlive the horrors. The mortals are starving. Their prayers reach Olympus. heir screams of pain and mourning break through the gentle music of the palace, scattering the musicians and causing minor spirits to cover their ears as they walked the halls. Their graves are innumerable. 

Zeus can ignore their pleas for mercy no longer. Demeter’s scourge must end. 

“Sister,” he tries again with a surprising softness to his voice. “Please. You have searched the whole world for her and turned up empty handed. Wherever Kore has gone, I’m afraid she isn’t coming back.”

_“No,”_ Demeter growls, staggering forward on legs weak from crossing the planet. Zeus catches her, his arms the only thing keeping her on her feet. “My daughter is gone. _Our_ daughter. You can’t tell me that you feel nothing for her. She is your blood, Zeus. And now she’s gone—” Demeter’s voice breaks. Zeus’ heart shatters.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers earnestly. “There is nothing I can do. She’s been gone for a year now.”

Demeter sobs, her tears wetting his chest. Zeus says nothing more and holds her. It’s the only thing he can do. The king of the gods, usurper of the titans, the ruler of Olympus defeated by a crying woman. How strange.

“Please. Please bring her back to me.” Demeter’s voice is barely a hush, but Zeus hears the words as though she screamed them in his face. He freezes, unsure. It’s not as though he wants to refuse—he wants Kore back almost as much as Demeter does—it’s just that he doesn’t know how to even begin to look for her. Demeter has done all the right things. Talked with the same people he would, explored the same avenues. What else is there to do?

Gingerly, Zeus pries his sister away from himself, and Hecate is there, a steadying arm already pulling Demeter to lean on her.

“I’ve got you,” Hecate murmurs.

Zeus steps back, mounting the steps up to his throne before turning to address the gathered crowd of immortals.

“One year ago,” he booms. “One of our own was taken from us. We don’t know how, or why, or even who would dare such an offense. What we do know is that Demeter’s daughter— our daughter,” he amends when he catches her flinty glare. “Vanished. Demeter’s mourning is, of course, the proper way of things. But without her blessing, the earth dies. So too do the mortals who rely on us for their survival. We cannot abandon those who depend upon our gifts. As your King and as a father, I implore whoever amongst you has any knowledge of what happened to Kore to step forward. No detail is too small, no rumor too outlandish. You will speak. Else I will ensure your eternal torment.”

Thunder rolls, shaking the palace and its inhabitants in equal measure. Dozens of pale, haunted faces stare back at Zeus. He looks to Hermes, his messenger, but the mercurial god shakes his head. He is as baffled as the rest. Ares is sharpening his sword, frowning down at the edge of the glossy bronze blade. He looks as though he wants to slice through a whole army on Kore’s behalf—nothing different there. Dionysus is staring moodily into his goblet as though the purple wine will hold the answers. Hephaestus meets his father’s gaze calmly, only shaking his head when Zeus raises a questioning brow. Poseidon says nothing, but judging by the state of him he’d been on a three-month bender and didn’t intend on stopping anytime soon. 

Zeus’ wife glares at him, but then again, when isn’t Hera glaring at him? She wouldn’t do this, though. Demeter had forced Zeus out of their daughter’s life as best she could, and the queen of Olympus couldn’t justify her jealousy. Athena, his favorite child, his best and brightest creation, has been searching for the girl for months only to turn up empty. Artemis, likewise has been tearing across the world with her huntresses in search for the lost maiden to no avail. Aphrodite winds the hem of her gown in her fingers, eyes flitting between Demeter and Zeus with something akin to heartbreak. No, the goddess of love isn’t at fault.

Which leaves but one Olympian.

Apollo stands next to his sister, shifting his weight as though prepared to dash out. Zeus narrows his eyes. No... it can’t be this simple, can it?

“Apollo,” he warns and his golden son flinches.

“I might’ve seen who took Kore,” he admits. Olympus descends into chaos.

“Impossible!” bellows Hephaestus.

“You _lied_ to us?” Athena cries, breaking her usual facade of calm.

“You stupid little—” Artemis hisses, socking him in the shoulder. Hard.

“Ow!” he complains.

“You deserve that!” she tells him archly. “What in the blazes were you thinking, Apollo? We’ve been searching for Kore for a year. You really expect me to believe that you’ve known where she went this whole time? Shame on you. You could’ve ended Demeter’s suffering at any time. Stupid, selfish, little, _hothead!”_ With each insult, Artemis rains blows on his arms, which Apollo has pulled up to protect his face.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry!” he yelps. “I would’ve said, but no one asked me.”

“I went to Delphi. I begged your Oracle.” Demeter’s voice is quiet and laced with venom. Apollo has the decency to flinch.

“I am sorry, auntie. But it’s better for you to have hope and mourn, rather than know the truth and despair,” he intones sadly.

The hall freezes. Zeus strokes his beard—a nervous tick—and considers the weight of Apollo’s words. He is, after all, the patron god of prophecy. It would make sense that he knew all along. Zeus was angry, to be sure. It was incredibly stupid of his son to hide such an important secret. The warning in his words unsettles the king though. Apollo may be a little sunbrained, but he isn’t stupid. Something horrible has happened. Zeus’ heart cools and sinks to his stomach.

“Tell us what you know.”

Apollo nods at his king’s command, taking a steadying breath before he speaks again. “I was in my chariot. It was the beginning of morning. I saw Kore running through a field outside her cottage. One of my horses got spooked, I didn’t see exactly what happened while I was calming him down, but I do know this. The last thing I saw was Kore in a black chariot disappearing into a vast crack in the earth’s surface.”

Across the room, Hermes swears softly to himself.

“And? Who took her?” Apollo ducks his head, staring intently at the marble beneath his sandals.

“I only caught a glimpse, but he’s unmistakable. There’s only one living creature I know who has a black chariot drawn by onyx stallions.” He looks up and meets Demeter’s gaze directly. “It was Hades who took your daughter.”

“No,” Demeter wails, sinking to her knees. Hecate is still holding her, running her hand over Demeter’s hair and murmuring softly into her matted hair.

“Is this true, my son?” Zeus demands.

“The eye of the sun sees all,” Apollo replies simply. Olympus stands in silence. Hades. The rightful heir to the throne that Zeus took with a clever trick. His brother has resented him ever since. Hades, so feared by the mortals that they call him the Other Zeus for fear of invoking his presence. His brother who guards Tartarus. The warden of the titans, the man who lives in a kingdom of perpetual darkness and misery in a black palace that is a twisted reflection of Zeus’ beloved Olympus.

“I will kill him.” For the first time, Demeter’s voice is clear. She has a scythe in her hand—Kronos only _knows_ where she had been hiding it—and there’s a resolve in her eyes the likes of which haven’t been seen since the Great War against the titans when she reaped bodies as easily as she did wheat.

“Demeter, you will not kill Hades.” She narrows her eyes at his command but stills. Hecate pries the blade out of her fingers and sends it away with a flash of her magic. “We will send someone to the Underworld to bring Kore back home,” Zeus declares. “Hermes, fastest and most loyal messenger. Will you do this for us? Will you bring the Lady Kore back home by the command of Zeus, your lord and king?”

Hermes places a fist over his heart and bows. “I will, your majesty. You have my word.”

“Good. I promise you, sister. Our child will return home. When she does, you will end this never-ending winter and the world will grow lush and fruitful once more.”

Demeter straightens to her full height, eyes flashing. “I will. But if Hades has hurt her, he will pay dearly for his error.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> AWANA's playlist is on Spotify, and I'd love it if you [check it out!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=-2xQ5f_mT2eU3leSCvt5pw)
> 
> All titles are taken from [Hadestown.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=Ql-CEVJERC6IGRpfAubFGA)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are incredibly helpful! I love hearing your feedback. It genuinely makes my week ^^


	15. The girl I love is gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone sips at the nectar in her cup, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. Hades takes the opportunity to commit her to memory. He does this more often, now. The fear of the Olympians swooping in and taking her away has abated. It took him a long time, but he can relax now. He savors every moment they have together.
> 
> It has been one year since she begged him to take her away. One year, and Hades could not have predicted just how much that year would change them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Persephone and Hades' escape to the Underworld has been amazing, but sadly time is running out. How are they going to get out of this?
> 
> We're almost done with the story! Thank you all so much for sticking with it these past months, it really means the world to me.

The table is spread with a veritable feast. Rich, juicy meat plate alongside warm bread with honey. The ripest of fruits—grapes, strawberries, and others Hades doesn’t recognize—are arranged in an earthen bowl. Persephone sips at the nectar in her cup, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. Hades takes the opportunity to commit her to memory. He does this more often, now. The fear of the Olympians swooping in and taking her away has abated. It took him a long time, but he can relax now. He savors every moment they have together.

It has been one year since she begged him to take her away. One year, and Hades could not have predicted just how much that year would change them both.

He’s less stern, less severe. His smile—once a rarity and a miracle—was present more often than not these days. He ventures into the Underworld beyond his palace walls more frequently, most often visiting Asphodel and listening to the stories of the shades present there. The denizens of his kingdom are less afraid of him. They no longer avert their gaze, hold the breath they no longer have, and dance away skittish as a colt. Now, they smile and wave. They call to him as though he is their dear friend, not their jailer. And Hades smiles back. Waves to his people, asks them if there is anything he can do to make their stay more comfortable. 

He knows this change is all due to Persephone’s influence on him, but to claim it doesn’t run both ways is foolish. She has changed even more than he has.

She no longer dresses in white for a start. That had been the first remnant of her life Above she had cast off. Now, her gowns sparkle in jewel tones—emerald green, sapphire blue, amethyst purple, ruby red—or are shades of black and grey that lend her a regal air. She has transformed his home, adding dashes of color to what was once an oppressive black structure. Her garden is thriving—Hades had been shocked to learn that there are actually plants that _prefer_ the darkness—and she has been teaching him how to care for living things. The beatific smile she gives him when he coaxes his first seedling up out of the earth is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

They take all their meals together, which is why they are both cheerfully chipping away at their sublime brunch when a flurry of movement bursts through the doors and freezes their utensils halfway to their mouths.

Hermes doubles over, hands on his knees as he pants desperately for breath. His curls are mussed with wind and his handsome face is flushed. Hades has never seen his friend in such a state of disarray. Persephone’s knuckles are white, and it is all Hades can do not to reach out and take her hand in his own. Instead, he gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Hermes, what is the meaning of this interruption?” Hades asks, more than a little cross.

The messenger god throws up a finger. “Give me—a moment—to _ah_ —catch my breath,” he pants. Hades grants him this small courtesy, watching as Hermes’ breathing slows to a reasonable pace and the fleet-footed god pushes up to stand tall. There is a resolve in his eyes Hades has never seen before, and something within him splinters. 

“Well?” Hades prompts. Hermes glares at him.

“What have you done, Hades?” he demands. The god of the dead recoils, his friend’s tone cutting him like a knife.

“What do you mean, ‘what have I done?’” Hermes narrows his eyes, hands on his hips.

“You know damn well. What were you _thinking_ bringing Kore here?” Persephone shrinks back into her chair. Hades doesn’t have to look at her to know that she’s trembling. _Fuck._ “Demeter has gone mad with grief! The mortal world has been thrown into chaos. The crops are dying; the world is trapped in cold and ice. Mortals are starving— _dying_ —and it’s all because you couldn’t help yourself. I mean,” Hermes gestures wildly, his voice manic. “Kore is a nature goddess. She belongs up there, with her mother. Not in this hellish pit. But you kidnapped her, you stupid, selfish—”

Hades catches Persephone’s shocked look, its twin on his own face.

“I didn’t kidnap anyone,” Hades argues gently. This is the wrong thing to say.

“That is absolute _nonsense,_ and you know it!” Hermes declares.

“It’s the truth!” Hades cries. “I didn’t kidnap her.” Hermes looks on the verge of screaming when Persephone’s clear voice interrupts.

“Is it true?” 

Hermes blinks at her, noticing her for the first time. He has never been good at hiding his emotions, and now they flit across his face like the pages of a tome. Confusion as he’s interrupted, the realization of who is addressing him, and the relief that she’s alright pass like shadows.

“Kore,” he breathes. “You’re alright?” Hades prickles at the insinuation that he would ever harm his guest.

“Of course I’m alright, Hermes.” Persephone’s smile is sweet. “But I need to know. Is it true? What you said about my mother?”

“I’m afraid so, my lady. Demeter and Hecate have scoured the earth for you with enchanted torches ever since you vanished. Apollo only just confessed that he saw who it was that took you. I’m sorry, we would have come for you sooner.” Hades makes a note to punch the sun god in the face next time he sees him.

“That’s very kind, but there’s really no need,” Persephone tells him earnestly. “I’m quite happy here.” Hermes gapes like a fish. It’s as though the clues of the riddle are falling into place one by one, arranging the whole picture before him in startling clarity. Hermes looks at Persephone, then at Hades, then back to Persephone. He takes in her gown, the lily in her hair, the healthy flush to her skin and that ever-present lustre of immortality that shines in a halo around her.

There is nothing about Persephone that shows any maltreatment. It puzzles the messenger: that much is plain to see, but for all Hermes’ cunning, he is an Olympian. He will trust Zeus’ word above any other, so he only sees the narrative the god king spun—a kidnapped goddess, a capricious Hades, and a prison in the Underworld.

“What in Zeus’ name is going on?” the young god finally demands.

“Persephone has been my guest this past year. She chooses to stay here. I have not manipulated or tricked her. She is free to come and go as she pleases.”

“That’s not—” Hermes frowns, wrinkling his brow. “That can’t be all.”

“It is,” Hades replies. But Hermes knows him too well, and can see through the cracks of his mask. Hades glances at Persephone, and every fibre of his being tells him to run, to take her hand and to go far away. Find a new kingdom, a distant land where the Olympians could never find them and be happy together.

Hermes gasps softly. He is clever, this messenger, and Hades knows he’s been found out. But for the first time since he was young, he meets Hermes’ gaze steadily with his own. Let him see the depth of Hades’ love for Persephone. Let them all see. He is happy as long as she is here, beside him. And there is nothing—not the titans, not Demeter and _certainly_ not Zeus—who can keep him from loving her.

“Hermes,” Persephone calls and breaks the spell. “You’re telling me that Apollo saw what happened? Saw me leave?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking. He didn’t catch all of it—you know how fickle the sun steeds are—but he saw enough. He saw you on the back of Hades’ chariot plunging into the earth. He saw him take you.”

Persephone rolls her eyes, as annoyed with the sun god’s chosen narrative as Hades is. He isn’t surprised, though. Hades is used to being seen as a monster. Persephone is the first person he’s met who has seen him—truly seen him—and not run away screaming.

“What now?” she asks.

“Zeus had commanded me to bring you home to your mother. I assure you, my lady, your nightmare is at an end.”

The color drains from Persephone’s face, and her hands grip at the arms of her chair until Hades is sure the wood will splinter under her fingers. It’s clear she’s terrified. Terrified of going back to Demeter, of returning to the Overworld, and—Hades hopes—leaving this place behind forever. She meets his gaze and the fear in her eyes tugs at his heart. Her lips are trembling as she mouths a single word to him: _please._ A wave of protectiveness surges in him.

“Surely he doesn’t expect her to return immediately,” Hades protests.

“Zeus expects her to return as soon as possible. So, yeah. Immediately.” 

Persephone shoves up from her seat and paces over to the fireplace to stare into its depths. Hades and Hermes watch her go, and then the messenger grabs Hades by the arm.

“Are you mad, Hades?” he hisses. “Kidnapping Demeter’s daughter—”

“I didn’t kidnap her!” Hades protests again. Hermes ignores him.

“—and then mooning after her like a poet. It doesn’t look good.”

“I’m not mooning after her. I care about her. All I want is her happiness.”

“And that’s with you, is it?” 

“Maybe,” he grinds out. Hades’ mind is reeling, searching for some loophole, some trick that can keep Persephone by his side just a little while longer. Just enough to say all the things he needs her to hear. Part of him curses Zeus’ name for forcing his hand. He had wanted his confession to come from him, not under the deadline of Persephone’s return to the blasted Overworld.

Beside him, Hermes droops a little. His cheeks are still flushed from his journey and his eyelids droop dangerously. _He’s exhausted,_ Hades realizes. And it is this that gives him the spark of an idea. 

“Hermes, your journey was long. You’re clearly tired from your travels. Stay one night, and Persephone will go with you in the morning.” Hermes gives him a suspicious look.

“Zeus said as—”

“As soon as possible, I know. But even gods need sleep. What sort of guide and guardian will you be to her if you’re fighting Hypnos’ gentle lure the whole trip? All sorts of horrible things could happen—brigands, wolves, satyrs. Demeter will be furious if her daughter is harmed upon her return.” Hermes’ mind is puzzling it out, weighing his options even as his body fights sleep.

“Well, I suppose you have a point,” Hermes murmurs. “Why do you care about her so much, anyway?”

Hades looks at Persephone, so small and pale against the roaring fire in the hearth. “She is the first person to see me as I am,” he replies simply. Hermes looks dubious, but the lure of a warm bed is a siren song and he cannot refuse it.

“Fine. Tomorrow, she returns to her mother. Persephone will spend one final night in the Underworld.” With that, the bleary—eyed messenger slinks off in the direction of the spare rooms. Hades runs a hand through his hair, sighs, and takes a step towards Persephone.

One final night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/katerina_sings)
> 
> AWANA's playlist is on Spotify, and I'd love it if you [check it out!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BNjGjWmG5RT4fvtoc8EQ0?si=-2xQ5f_mT2eU3leSCvt5pw)
> 
> All titles are taken from [Hadestown.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Hgt5M9dfWySUUZcBeDyvf?si=Ql-CEVJERC6IGRpfAubFGA)
> 
> If you're in an area being affected by the fires, stay safe. The skies here are pretty spooky, and I'm fairly far away from the nearest blaze.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are incredibly helpful! I love hearing your feedback. It genuinely makes my week ^^


End file.
